The Fall of an Empire
by Lonely Scarecrow
Summary: When an emperor falls in love with his empire those closest to him are expected to suffer the most, and in their suffering they grow desperate- Marcus, Sulpicia, Demetri and Renata escape when they can no longer tolerate Aro's tyranny. Post BD, AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi :D I really have no idea what to say except that this is the re-write of 'The Darkest Nights'. As you can all see, I have yet to think of a good title, because I've recently discovered that the previous title belongs to a song that isn't at all related to the story. I changed a lot of things in the story, but it's still (almost) the same as the previous version. **

Marcus saw Paris before the French Revolution, and he thought it beautiful then. He often thought of revisiting it afterwards but his affairs kept him tied to Volterra. Paris today is so beautiful it's almost unreal, and even though this occasion calls for merriment, his dead heart was still too thick with grief to absorb any of the city's dreamlike beauty.

She would've loved it, he thought, especially at night. The city under the sun's rays is a mystery to him, for he had been hiding in a cellar during the time, but as he walked in the almost emptied streets he felt comforted by the moon's illuminated form following him as he walked closer towards his destination. _Yes, _he thought, _she would've loved it. _She wasn't one for darkness, but he knew she'd appreciate it here. He knew that, if she was still here, they would've been happy and content in this place. He remembers buying a house somewhere in France and selling it years after her assassination, and he remembers thinking that she'd love it when she sees it. He remembers naively thinking of it as the best way to start over, as the first thing he'd give her in return of the happiness she gives him.

Right now he wishes to relish in the city's beauty, to laugh and sing and drink from its offering hands, but at the same time he wishes for solitude. His grief kept him frowning for the most part, but the sense of danger lurking in the shadows during this time of the day quickened his pace a little.

Like all cities, Paris had its hidden, darkened, dangerous corners. Perhaps the place he's headed to is even more dangerous to him than to the humans, but knowing that he was already running out of time he continued desperately towards that place. On his way he passed by drunken men that tried to cross his path, and he saw women with painted faces and revealing clothes advancing him with sweetened smiles on their faces.

Still, he refused to be distracted. He kept moving forward, thinking that she would've _definitely _hated this part of the city.

At long last, he found the man in question leaning against a brick wall, smiling lazily at the ancient vampire before him. He was wearing a black mask that covered most of the upper part of his face, but Marcus still saw those familiar black eyes staring back at him, and still he saw the scars and bite marks slashed across his face and neck at odd angles, and even though he wore a hat Marcus still saw his dark curls tucked neatly behind his ears.

He hadn't changed a bit. He was still tall, muscular, and generally intimidating. He looked as young and powerful as he had been at the battlefield, even his smile remained the same when Marcus' vanished.

Marcus held his ground and kept his words to himself.

"I don't even know what to think of you anymore," the man chuckled, looking more amused than disturbed by the vampire's presence in his territory. "What are you, truly, Marcus? A brave fool or a suicidal fool, to leave the vampire sanctuary that is Volterra and come all the way to Paris?"

_The same deep voice, _Marcus noted, _how long has it truly been? _

"And that's not all," he continues, "you came here for a specific reason; you came here seeking _me _of all people." His chuckles bounced on the walls and faded into the night. He stared at Marcus and smiled with ease despite the marks on his skin. "May I inquire as to _why_ you'd take such a risk?"

"I beseech you not to," was Marcus' hoarse, whispery reply.

The man continued to smile, even though he seemed a bit unsatisfied with that answer. "It's your business, I suppose, but surely you plan on telling me the reason behind this sudden intrusion?"

"You haven't killed me yet," Marcus noted, "You must know the reason."

The man's smile faded a little. Marcus saw something resembling a mix of astonishment and amusement spreading across the planes behind that mask of his. "Then the rumors are true..." he murmured, mostly to himself. He then grinned, pushing himself off the wall. "Come," he beckoned, turning around and opening the steel door next to him, "we shall discuss this in my office." He raised his voice over the sound of music and humans blaring from the inside.

Marcus stood still for a whole second contemplating. Before he decided on his next move, his feet started moving towards the other man, slowly but confidently. He kept a short distance between them, and the man seemed pleased by that notion as he led him in.

The place was almost completely dark, being illuminated by brightly-colored rays shooting all over the place in a quick, disordered manner. As he followed the man he spared the place a quick glance. He saw humans with glazed, half-lidded eyes dancing and lounging about. Their smiles were stretched all the way to their jaw-lines, and from afar he would've thought they were laughing at an eye-watering joke, but with his sensitive ears his picked up low, sensual noises coming from them.

He glanced at the bartender, the DJ, and the other workers in the place...they weren't exactly _human_.

Marcus looked away.

Two large, masked men intersected his path and blocked the man from his view. He stepped back when he saw their clawed hands reaching towards him and when he heard the low, animalistic growl emitting from their thick throats. The humans didn't even notice him, the odd one out, but the creatures did. They didn't look happy.

"Relax boys," came the man's deep voice from behind the bigger two in front of Marcus, "he's with me."

Reluctantly, the two stepped back and watched as Marcus picked up his pace to catch up with their leader. He heard them snapping their jaws as he passed them, and he knew then that it took so much effort from their part to let him pass by them unscathed.

He followed the man through the hallway and up the stairs, where the music was dulled. They walked into a small room filled with old, tattered books stacked in random places as well as old paintings of monsters hanged on the walls. Dimly-lit lamps illuminated the room, for the absence of a window demanded it. There was a desk with scattered papers all over it and two old, leather chairs facing it.

The man stood behind the desk. "Please, have a seat." He gestured at one of the chairs. "It isn't brought to us from ancient cultures nor is it as comfortable and valuable as the ones you probably have in Italy, but I'm afraid it'll have to do for now."

Marcus wordlessly sat on one of the chairs.

The man started rummaging through the drawers of the desk, "you must excuse the mess," he said, "I wasn't really expecting anyone. I could offer you something to eat, but being the creature you are I'm guessing you're more interested in a drink," he pointed at an unconscious, half-dressed human woman in the corner that Marcus failed to notice before.

Marcus raised a brow.

The man grinned at the vampire's expression. "I was having a little fun before I heard of your arrival."

Marcus politely refused, claiming that he already dined before reaching Paris. After that he waited for the masked man to find whatever he was looking for and hand it over, cutting off everything that tied him with Marcus in the process.

After a while of searching quietly through his desk, the man found the old envelope he was looking for. He grinned at the sight of it- he seemed to love grinning whenever he could. Why shouldn't he, Marcus thought, he had the teeth for it. –he sat on the chair behind the desk and dropped the old envelope on Marcus' lap.

Marcus picked it up and examined it with eager fingers and cautious eyes, before tearing it open and shaking its ingredients out and onto the desk.

"I thought of this day, you know," mused the man as he watched Marcus frowning at the shiny credit card that fell last on the few papers that were in the envelope. "But until I heard those rumors I couldn't really think of a good way to pay off my debt."

"I can't use this," said Marcus, looking up. "Credit cards can be traced."

"_Yours _can," replied the man. "I'm supposedly dead, remember?"

Of course, Marcus was smart enough to dispose of his credit cards and any other traceable device he had, even though it didn't change much. Still, it gave him more time and that was all he needed.

"I could've gotten you fake IDs," said the man seriously, "but those will take a while, and you don't have a 'while'. IDs are not my thing, but hey, I'm connected. I can only offer you a forty-eight hour stay in Paris. None of my boys will harm you, but still, I suggest you leave before...the day after tomorrow is a full moon, and even _I_ won't be able to keep my promises."

Marcus nodded. "I understand."

"I kept this account for emergencies, but I guess I can give it up for this purpose." He pushed the card towards Marcus as he spoke. "In this account I have three million Euros." He smirked at Marcus' expression. "Trust me; you wouldn't want to know _how _I got that kind of money." His expression then switched back to the way it was. "I want that account emptied by tomorrow. All the documents required are in your hands."

Marcus stared at the papers without reading them and shook his head. "What am I supposed to do with three million Euros?"

The man gave him an incredulous look. "Being amidst luxury in the past three thousand years might've confused you a little, but I assure you that three million Euros can get you as far away from Italy as possible." He sighed. "Look, you have two more days here. No one will harm you then, I'm sure, for no vampire's ever been in and out of France for the last few centuries. Think a little; decide on where you want to go and who you'd rather turn to."

Marcus would've laughed at the sudden, uncharacteristic change in the man if he hadn't felt so wretched. In reality he had nothing left. Volterra's residence loved him despite the fact that they didn't know him, and strangely enough he feels the same way about them. It was he who enforced vampires to hunt outside Volterra, and it was he who insisted on punishing those who choose to defy that law...He couldn't help but sulk. Still he loved that city, even though it's currently too dangerous to be called home.

In short, Marcus had nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. He was alone in every sense.

"Thank you, my friend," he said after a while, his voice still too low and dry. "I truly do appreciate your assistance."

The man shrugged and leaned back against his chair, lifting his feet and placing his muddied boots all over the scattered papers on the desk. "It doesn't matter, as long as we're finally even."

"Yes," he agreed, "we're finally even."

The man's lazy smile returned, making it almost impossible to believe that he was deadly serious just a while ago. Marcus stood up, stuffed the papers and the credit card back into the envelope and turned around.

"If the rumors are true," began the man once again, making Marcus stop on his way towards the door, "which I'm sure they are, then this must be the beginning of the foreseen revolution..."

"There is no revolution," Marcus cut him off without turning around, his voice as still and low as death itself.

"But a revolution starts with oppression," the man replied, "When the leader becomes overly consumed with hunger, he starts seeing his people as nothing more or less than puppets he could play with and dispose of at will. He laughs and drinks as they wallow in pain and cry in hunger and rage, and he continues to do so until one of them steps up and starts the revolution."

Marcus was still for a while, and for a moment there the man thought that he had nothing to say. "The people aren't oppressed; therefore there won't be a revolution. Even if there was, I won't lead it nor would I encourage it."

The man scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I didn't say that _you _should start anything...though instead of one, _four_ could rise against the oppressor..."

Marcus glanced behind his shoulder, eyeing the man suspiciously.

The man shrugged. "Just sayin'..."

Marcus was about to leave when the man stopped him again. "Oh, and I still have a score to settle with your silver-haired companion," he touched the bite marks and scars on his face, grimacing at the rough texture it gave. "The bastard's worse than that rabid soldier I once had..."

He could not deliver that message, but he nodded nonetheless, craving for a release of this place and of his racing thoughts.

**Thoughts, anyone? **


	2. Chapter 2

**Fucking hell, this chapter almost killed me! GAH, I wish it wrote itself, maybe THEN it would appreciate me and the pain I went through to get it done! It was so damn stubborn you'd think it's pregnant with 60 babies! **

***Deep breath* **

**Ok, now that I'm done whining, you may enjoy the shitload of crap I squeezed into this chapter =D **

**(Don't give me that look, it's rated T!)**

It's amazing, really, how the Volturi's colonies increased in number over the past ten years. If the humans were the slightest bit aware of their existence they would've deemed them to be the most powerful force in the world, and if they were aware of the fact that gaining this much power in a decade amazed even the ancients they would've consider them legendary. Perhaps they were legendary, for Marcus remembers centuries wasted in dismissed schemes, opposing judgments, and loud arguments that miraculously resulted in victoriously won battles.

Ten years ago they only possessed Italy, Finland, and Germany. Almost all of Europe today is under their influence, including France- with the exception of Paris –and Romania. Their laws were taken into consideration, especially now with their coven members patrolling the countries they dominated in Europe, looking a lot like starving hounds continuously sniffing for outlaws rather than vampires in disguise as humans.

Marcus wasn't really sure if these sudden changes enlarged his hunger or subside it, but he probably wouldn't be as disturbed if these changes took place two thousand years back, for that was the last time he remembers himself dreaming of absolute power. But then again, Marcus has been a fool, and until his last encounter- his last vibrant and _honest _encounter with Aro -he was nothing more than a pretty schoolboy entrapped in a world too cunning and too sophisticated to tolerate his naivety.

Surprisingly enough, he isn't feeling vengeful. All he really wants is to be somewhere far and safe, a place where he could scream and weep without the fear of being found and taken back. He wishes to mourn properly, _endlessly, _not just for her death alone, but for his failure as well, and as much as he wants these feelings to drown him he knew they'd weaken him, and right now he can't afford weakness.

With the three million Euros he left the dark cellars and took refuge in a somewhat luxurious hotel room, and the first thing he did was staring at and marking the map he conjured up in his mind, relying completely on his memories of thousands and possibly millions of maps he came across in the past three thousand years. He didn't take a moment to study the room or the view; he unfolded the map in his mind and started marking the Volturi's colonies on it. He circled the places he wouldn't be welcomed in, drew a V on the Volturi's colonies, and he crossed the states that had a few of their agents residing there. It didn't take much of his time, but the results weren't so satisfying. He stared at the black V's and circles on the map and dread flourished and bloomed within.

He was trapped.

Europe was entirely theirs, save for Paris and a few small, unprotected, soon-to-be colonized pieces of land. Brazil wasn't theirs, but it was almost overpopulated with their agents. Washington and the surrounding states were off-limits, and so was Canada with the rumors of a rising Canadian coven stirring a rebellion against the Volturi- which he didn't believe in, but he's sure Aro's taking precautions. –The Russian vampires swore their alliance just a few years back, and so did the Indian and the Australian vampires.

His eyes landed on Mexico. To this moment it remains untouched by Aro...

The idea dismissed itself before it could bury itself in his mind. It's where the hybrids are said to be hiding, and he knew that Aro would most likely send someone to confirm or disconfirm these sayings.

_What about Africa?_

He shook his head, as if he was arguing with a real person rather than a guiding voice in his head. Africa was completely off-limits, even though it'd serve as the perfect sanctuary for him. Still, he doesn't know what to expect from Amun; and judging from their last encounter he's assuming that the Egyptian vampire's reaction towards Marcus's sudden visit would be something akin to shock, followed closely by absolute fury.

And so he was brought back to the same brick wall.

He moved towards the bed and laid down on it with his limbs spread and his face towards the ceiling, as if he was bravely – _desperately - _offering himself as a sacrifice to the ancient gods, but instead of looking into the eyes of the divine beings he closed his wine-colored eyes. A sigh escaped his lips, and he imagined his troubles escaping with that gust of air. His body lay still for a while, and then his chest started to rise and fall slowly. The hard structure of his face smoothed, and from a distance he seemed like an exhausted tourist sleeping after his arrival from Italy to the acquaintance's residence, and then straight to the bank and to the hotel soon afterwards.

Of course, sleep no longer visits his kind, neither does rest. It's a part of the curse, Marcus assumes, to be completely aware of the changes taking place every second of every minuet of eternity. He'd be proclaimed insane if he ever voiced these thoughts, even though he's already avoided for considering this 'gift' a curse, and even though he'd want nothing more than solitude he knew that he needed a crowed more than ever. Especially now...

He erased the map from his mind and blocked out the guiding voice with it. He needn't think of these panic-igniting things, not when he was searching for a solution hidden in between the bricks of the wall. So he listened instead, focusing every ounce of strength he had on the sounds of the humans around him, such as the maid humming in the halls, the old beggar rasping outside, the newlyweds leaving their room above, or the American schoolgirls gushing over a handsome Frenchman in the room below his. Families resided in the rooms surrounding his. He could hear children playing and whining and pleading to be taken somewhere. He could hear a parent groaning and another shouting a refusal, which only resulted in the children raising the volume of their penetrating cries...

None of these sounds inspired him, but they kept his mind occupied. He should be focusing on the map during his short stay in Paris, but he knew that the longer he mused over that map the more tempted he'd be to allow himself to fall into the dark waters of his long-forgotten emotions...he'd love nothing more than that, so he kept reminding himself of the purpose behind his adventurous flight whenever it gets worse. It's been rather helpful so far, but he fears it might madden him if he continues to use it, so he listens instead.

* * *

While Marcus listened, confidently inattentive to his surroundings because of Paris's reputation of taking vampires in and throwing out their ashes, another vampire thought of him. A female, possibly the tiniest and frailest vampire made, thought of him as she stood facing the window.

She was accompanied by two vampires- another female she feared to death and a male she adored -The male was standing a distance away, talking to masked men by the door, while the other female sat alone in the sofa staring lifelessly down at her lap. Having nothing better to do she stood facing the window, uncaringly aware of the sun's light on her now glittering skin, and she thought of Marcus. She thought of him alone, feeling safe as he drank in Paris's charm, completely unaware of their presence in a motel on the city's outskirts. She can't imagine the kind of feelings going through his mind right now, but she knows that they're probably a hundred times worse than hers.

She didn't think much about him after that, because even though she was curious, she still didn't trust her thoughts to remain focused on Marcus rather than trailing to the ties that held on to him. She watched the motel's guests coming in and out of the rooms, and every time a dark-haired human appears she goes back to Marcus.

She shook her head, laughing inwardly at herself. Marcus doesn't have facial hair, nor is he ridiculously short or incredibly tall, and neither is he too young or too old- but perhaps he's ancient in their world. –and he didn't have tattoos or piercings, or strange, bright streaks on his dark mane. He was just Marcus; he had his own discriminating features, a lot like Aro and Caius.

She glanced down at her crossed, bare arms and wondered why- _how? –_did she ever find a cold, hard, glittering skin worthier than a blissful mortal life, one accompanied by complete ignorance relating to the supernatural realm she lives in. And then she looked up, dismissing the same question she'll hear tomorrow, thinking that it's been over five hundred years, that it was simply too late to turn back.

It's ridiculous, really, how she never thought of that question until ten year back, when she stabbed her master where it hurt him most. It was her first time, betrayal was nothing but a foreign term to her, and stabbing him hurt her ten times more. Until now, until this very minuet, she feels that scar reopening in her chest and pouring out the dark, black matter she was made of: a distort, a creature that must never exist in between the humans and her own kind.

"Renata, get away from the light," a gentle voice commanded.

Before she could respond, or have the command processed properly, she felt two familiarly rough hands on her shoulders, and she couldn't help but give out an audible gasp as those hands applied a little bit of pressure on her wounds and pulled her back into the shadows.

"Shit!" he cursed under his breath as he quickly released her. "I'm sorry, Ren." He zoomed past her and pulled the thick, old curtains over the window, blocking out every pore the light might sneak in through. A second later the lights were on, and Renata had to blink a few times to get her sensitive eyes to adjust to the sudden changes.

She smiled when she caught him taking out alcohol pads from the nightstand's drawer.

She held out her hand when he approached her. "Is this really necessary, Demetri?"

He looked down at the pads and shrugged. "Afton's our nurse."

They stared at each other blankly for several minuets before laughing hysterically at the statement.

"Man, I wish he was here. He'd know what to do with that," he pointed at the slowly, _agonizingly, _healing red slashes across her shoulders.

Renata's laughter faded with her smile. After all the torment she lived up with in Volterra, she's still entirely dependant on the same vampires. Afton wasn't bad, neither was Corin, Heidi, or Alec. She can't say the same about the rest, even though most of her fears were irrational, including her fear of the bulky Felix, the seemingly innocent Jane, and the grinning Chelsea.

"Where did he go?" she asked quickly when she saw him frowning, realizing at the same time that the masked men were no longer with them.

"Back to their leader, I'm guessing," he said.

"And what of Marcus?" she asked, "When can we speak with him?"

"We cannot," he replied at length, once again being extra careful as to not hurt her feelings or disappoint her. He was awfully kind and caring towards her, and she often wondered when he'll ever tire of running after her and keeping her out of harm's way. "They've made a pact with him. They're not allowed to harm him until after the next full moon."

She nodded. She couldn't possibly understand the kind of situation Marcus might be in at the moment, but she knows that he won't talk to them. He will fight them if they crossed his path and he'll run away if they chased after him. They couldn't sneak up on him; he'd smell and hear them approaching within miles...in other words, he wouldn't give them a chance, he'd try every trick he knows and if those tricks fail him he'd fight his way through.

She sat on the bed with a sigh.

He kneeled in front of her and took her tiny hands in his. "Hey now, we'll figure this out. We'll find a way, Marcus can't run nor can he hide forever." He gave her his encouraging smile. "Don't worry, Ren. I won't let anything bad happen."

He said it with such certainty it made her want to pull him towards her and cry endlessly on his shoulder. It was as if it's been his plan to leave Volterra, not hers. It was as if he was brought all the way here, where they were attacked just a while ago, by his own doings, not hers. It was as if she was the hopeless, thriving pathetic creature that threw everything away from him, not the other way around.

She should be the one reassuring him, and he should be blaming her for the new scars on his body.

But instead she smiled faintly and freed one of her hands to run it gently through his dark brown hair. That gesture exposed a scar on his forehead, and her smile vanished once more. "You shouldn't have come."

"I go wherever you go," he replied easily, convincingly, almost stubbornly, "I'm not turning back now."

_You would if you knew what I've done, _she thought.

But instead she chose to change the subject. "What did he say?" she asked, referring to the masked man.

Demetri rose from the ground and sat on the bed next to her. "We're on our own. They will not bring him to us, not until after the full moon, and if any of us stay until then we'd all be dead."

She nodded. "Did they at least tell you where he's staying at?"

"Yea, I've got the address. I just don't know how to approach him without alerting him."

"We mean him no harm, he should be able to know that," she protested.

"His judgment is too clouded, he wont even remember the fact that he's gifted the moment he sees us," he replied, "you've seen what he did in Volterra. I assume it'd be worse here."

"He won't make a scene," she said, "it's the last thing he wants."

"He's desperate, remember?"

"Aren't we all?" she smiled wryly.

He sighed after a while. "This _is _hopeless."

She thought about the masked men again, and then suddenly she realized that they're still alive in Paris! She doesn't remember much from the attack, other than trying to defend herself. She remembers a searing kind of pain in her joints coming just before the numbness and the darkness that took over. She thought she was dead until Demetri reattached her limbs to her torso, and when she looked around everything was as neat and normal as it had been before the attack.

"Demetri, why are we alive?" she asked, turning towards him with millions of questions in her wide, deer-like eyes. "Why are they letting us go, and why are they helping us?" he opened his mouth to answer her question but she quickly cut him off. "And why wont they bring him to us if they want to help us?"

"They want us to fetch him ourselves, child." A new, feminine voice interfered.

They both turned towards the owner of the voice, both feeling a bit silly and shameful to forget about her presence among them. Silly because the woman before them _can't _be forgotten, and shameful because without her they wouldn't have escaped, and without her they wouldn't have survived the attack.

She didn't seem angry or upset. Her facial expression remained the same the moment they escaped Volterra: cold and lifeless. They weren't really sure if she was hiding her grief or joy behind that mask, but neither of them was willing to reach out and remove it from her face. They didn't know _why _she helped them escape, but there could be reasonable purposes behind that action, it's her _actual _involvement with the escape plan that had them pondering over it.

For, truly, what would Sulpicia gain out of this? Why would she escape now, when her husband was finally succeeding at such an alarming rate after three thousand years of ruling unprofitably? At first they assumed that she was using them to get Aro to Marcus, and they planned on getting rid of her, but then they came across the shocking truth about the nature of Sulpicia and Aro's relationship, so she gained their trust without even knowing it.

She looked different now, with her cloak cast aside and her hair free of braids and pins and her fingers unattached to her husband's arm. As she sat on the sofa, looking up at them with her hands still on her lap, Renata assumed that her fear of her former mistress would subside, but instead she learned that sometimes these things don't work. The past can be locked away forever, but it can never be forgotten.

"This is our battle, not theirs," she said as she slowly rose to her feet. "It's our responsibility."

Demetri shook his head. "Still, why wouldn't they kill us? Why should our problems concern them?"

She remained quiet for a while, and Demetri assumed that she had no answer, but then Demetri saw a thoughtful expression on her face, the kind that knew things rather than questioning them. "They're outnumbered."

"We're three," he opposed, "four, if they count Marcus."

"And the Volturi?" She asked.

Demetri opened his mouth to contradict her but then closed it and thought about it. "Still, out of all the cities in Europe, what are the chances of the Volturi searching in Paris first? One to million?"

"It's a chance they won't risk," she said, "or I could be mistaken."

A distant wail, one that can't be detected by human ears, silenced them. It was an animalistic sound that was against nature in every way, and it should mean nothing to such powerful vampires, and yet it managed to steal the words right out of their mouths the moment they heard it. Sulpicia remained still, scanning the room for any sign of irregularity. Renata rose with Demetri, thinking that if she had a heart it would've stopped beating.

_A warning... _

"We're running out of time," Sulpicia says as she picks up the envelope on the coffee table, her frame suddenly blurred because of the speed she's moving at.

"It's too early to go out," Demetri said.

"We don't have a choice," she replied, urging Renata away from Demetri and towards the door. "We'll have to be extra cautious to avoid the sun. Marcus has twenty-four hours left; let's hope that he won't use them until we reach him."

"Sulpicia, wait-" Demetri tried once again, but was cut off by Sulpicia pulling him and Renata outside. "Sulpicia!" He tried to protest as she dragged them across the shadows towards the receptionist.

"Just trust me," she called over her shoulders, "I have what he wants and needs most, he won't refuse me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello darlings :D as you can obviously tell, I'm pretty happy with this chapter. It's long, it makes sense, it wasn't so hard to write, and I hope it isn't boring :P **

**I really want you to start reading it, but I've realized that I've failed to point out a few important things before even starting with this story. Yes, I suck for doing that, but its ok because I'm listing them now: **

**1- ****This story is **_**kind of **_**AU.**

**Ok, I lied, it's almost entirely AU. Well, not **_**entirely **_**but mostly. Things change from the day before the Cullen-Volturi confrontation. There are also a few twists here and there, specifically in Marcus and Sulpicia's human lives and change into vampirism. It's a little too early to talk about that, but you'll get to it in time. **

**2-**** There will be a few Original Characters in this story.**

**...If you call the characters I squeezed in 'original'. Let's get this straight and over with: I did not create them, nor did I steal them or borrow them from anyone. They're definitely **_**not **_**from the Twilight universe, but that doesn't make this story a crossover. Again, you'll understand as you read.**

**3- ****Rating might change to M in the future. **

**Rest assured that it won't change for explicit sexual scenes, because god only knows how badly I am at writing that kind of thing, though there will be a few references on them. The rating might change for graphic scenes of violence and gore, **_**if **_**and only if I choose to include them. I have yet to decide on that, but if I do include them they won't be in large amounts.**

**4- ****WARNING! Huge character-deaths! **

**I've noticed that a lot of readers are disturbed- and often upset –when a writer in Fanfiction doesn't warn them about an upcoming character-death, and even though I don't like to say anything or give the reader the simplest idea on how the story might end, I'm still going to warn you about the **_**many **_**character-deaths in this story, including the ones I killed and the few I plan on killing. I've already planned the end, and if you're into Breaking Dawn endings then I don't think you should continue reading this story because you might be disappointed. But still, is it a happy or a sad ending? If you really want to know then continue reading and you'll find out. **

**Other than that you're all good to go :D **

**And YAY! New title!  
**

The sun was setting by the time they reached their destination, encouraging them to wander further as the growing shadows beckoned. Still, the streets weren't cleared from humans' eyes detecting their mildly sparkling skin.

They were sitting on a bench under a securely shaded area. Sulpicia was cleverly disguised as a solitary woman in her formal meeting suit, while Demetri and Renata took the role of the affectionate young couple. They seemed unfamiliar to each other to the public eye, but in truth they were all connected, for they were all there for one reason. Or, rather, they came together for one man.

"How much longer do we have to wait?" murmured Demetri, casting that question at Sulpicia as he smiled down at Renata.

Sulpicia flipped a page of the newspaper she was pretending to read. Or perhaps she really was reading an article. Either way, Demetri can never tell when that woman was pretending and when she wasn't. He wasn't even sure where she gained that skill from, knowing from the rumors that her life before the Volturi was quite...well, it wasn't really a prison, but from what he heard it was almost as bad.

"Patience, Demetri. It's his last day," she replied without moving her lips. She didn't say anything else, and she didn't need to because Demetri knows his role better than he knew the back of his hand.

Marcus will have to leave sometime today, if he wanted to live long enough to see tomorrow.

Still, Demetri was no longer the same patient man he used to be. Once upon a time he considered that trait a virtue, and perhaps it was more valuable to him than his own gift, but now he feels that it abandoned him completely. He can't help but worry, wonder, and panic every time the wind blows through his hair. It's impossible to even fake patience, especially when they're running out of time and when they can feel danger lurking in every corner.

His hold on Renata's delicate fingers instinctively tightened.

The minuets seemed to stretch into hours, and Demetri couldn't help but envy Sulpicia. How could she be so calm and collected in a situation like this? She seemed so sure of everything, as if the chances of Marcus refusing them are low!

Renata squeezed back when she felt the tension radiating off of him. He looked down at her, and from behind the sunglasses shading her ruby-red eyes he saw her giving him a confidant, reassuring look, even though it was still slightly shaken by fear of the unknown.

The sun was almost completely gone, save for some of its light still trailing behind it. Thankfully, though, it wasn't strong enough to illuminate their skin. It put Demetri's mind at ease (_somewhat_) and the moment darkness fell and the streetlights took the sun's natural place the figure of Marcus left the building they were facing.

"Not yet," Sulpicia murmured just as he was about to rush towards him. "Wait for my signal."

With some difficulty he restrained himself, reminding himself of the fact that he _can _and _should _trust Sulpicia, no matter how much he believes he shouldn't.

His eyes moved back to Marcus.

He was alerted by their presence, no doubt. He wasn't even showing it, though, nor was he trying to hide himself from them.

He walked causally away from the hotel he was staying at, keeping himself close to every human passing by. Demetri watched him as he glanced around himself, and he couldn't help but turn away from Renata and face him, even when she hissed a warning and pulled at his collar.

Was...was that really Marcus, the same master he served and protected for almost seven hundred years?

He looked the same, and different at the same time. Physically he was still Marcus, majestically tall and shockingly pale. He had the same smooth dark hair, the same thin face, the same white lips and bruise-colored lids, and the same ruby-red eyes that were staring back at him...

He froze.

Marcus didn't move. He was still staring at him, recognizing him the moment he laid his eyes on him. He was waiting for Demetri to make the first move in Paris, right here among all these humans and their other predators that might be lurking around somewhere.

He wasn't even sure if he was challenging him.

A bus passes by, blocking Marcus completely from his line of view. He stood up, squinting his eyes as he tried to see through the windows of the moving bus in hopes of catching Marcus's form making its next move, but the passengers inside blurred his structure from view.

The spot Marcus stood on was found empty by the time the bus drove off.

"You may go now," Sulpicia said without looking up from the newspaper.

Without sparing her a glare or even spitting an insult at her for making them wait for Marcus to flee, Demetri took off after his trail with Renata following closely behind. He closed his eyes and searched for Marcus, easily finding him a short distance away from them. He was still running, but he wasn't far enough. Demetri planted his 'tracking device'- something Felix came up with and joked about –into Marcus's mind and ran after it.

Sulpicia wasn't with them, he realized, but he kept moving anyway in hopes of getting a hold on Marcus before he shields himself with creatures that were many times worse than the Volturi.

* * *

Back in Volterra things were quiet. They weren't serene, mind you, but they were quiet.

Now, if you've known the Volturi for any amount of time (days, hours, or even minuets) you'd realize that something is either wrong or missing or disrupted, because with a coven consisting of over three hundred vampires it was almost impossible to retain a few minuets of peace and quiet.

The castle's walls didn't bounce back joyous laughter or endless wails, but it was noisy nonetheless. Something always happens, not a day goes by without an event taking place, no matter how small, big, or personal. There was always a vampire feeding off a struggling human, or vampires in a non-intimate affair exploring each other, or guards whispering in the halls about the latest gossip, or women laughing over something they once enjoyed doing as humans, or the coven's own leaders discussing confidential matters with themselves or with other visiting coven leaders.

But these days the place feels deserted, if not haunted, from the lack of life within its walls.

Or un-life, as its inhabitants haven't been living for hundreds to thousands of years.

Alec never believed in ghosts. Anything that represents god is a myth to him, ever since the day he and his sister almost burned to death in His name. Nor does he feel fear, because it seemed to be nothing more than an insignificant emotion that should never again be welcomed. He shouldn't have feared the flames that licked at his bare feet, because the fire that changed him was a hundred times worse, and he survived it. He shouldn't have been afraid of loosing his sister in the afterlife, because there was no such thing and because she survived the change with him.

But now, when Rome's third and most powerful triumvirate broke he feels that useless, wrecking emotion weighing heavily on his chest. It wasn't the fear of loosing his life, position, or even his sister. It was fear of the future, of the _unknown _that made him want to trade his powerful gift with the seer's.

But for his sister's sake he's kept a straight face and denied it all publically and privately. She wasn't afraid- _he knew that and he wished he could be the same_ -because she trusted her master more than her own self. Still, he felt compelled into letting her believe that he was still the same: Cold, ruthless, and fearless.

He refuses to acknowledge the fact that he'd do anything to hear _something _echoing in the hallway.

He knocked gently on the wooden door the moment he reached it, immediately putting on a mask of apathy, and when he was invited in he walked through that door without pausing or hesitating.

Caius was standing with his back to the window, the rays outside casting a dark shadow over his features as they illuminated his straight, shockingly white hair.

"Speak boy, I don't have all day," he snapped a few seconds after Alec closed the door. His voice was darker still, giving him and even eerier look.

"I'm sorry to be the one to inform you of this, master, but none of the guards we sent came across anything relating to master Marcus." His tone was smooth, a little too formal for his physical age.

"None?" He couldn't see his master's face clearly, but he could tell from his voice that he was shocked by the news. "Are you telling me that _none_ of the thirty guards we've sent all across Europe found any trace of him?"

He was getting angry already. His temper's been worse ever since their last encounter with Carlisle's clan, even when they assumed that his loss would soften him up a little.

Alec knew that he shouldn't push him any further; that he should just bow down and walk away while he still can, but the news must be fully delivered to his silky-haired master or else he'd unleash his fury on him when he hears it from another source.

He bowed his head a little. "We're still waiting for Demetri, master."

He saw the glow in Caius's fiery eyes shift in the dark as they bore forcefully into his darkening orbs. "And why, pray tell, is he still in France? I've asked him to return three days ago."

Alec held his ground and resisted the urge to shift on his feet. "He said that he might be onto something, master. He asked for my permission to stay longer, in hopes of-"

He was cut short when long, cold fingers dug into his skull and pulled his hair up. A cry escaped his lips as those hands tightened their hold on his hair and lifted him off the ground. He instinctively reached up and grasped at his master's wrists, kicking aimlessly at the air as he tried to ease his sharp nails off of his skin.

"And _who _gave _you_ the authority to give orders to _my _guards during a mission _I _am in charge of, hmm?" Caius hissed into his ear, tightening his hold on the boy's hair and shaking him.

Alec cried out, embarrassing himself even more in the process.

Vampires are supposedly dead in every sense, yes, but they still feel pain when it's inflicted on them by their own kind. Or, in Alec's case, by a vampire stronger than him in so many ways.

He was tempted to use his gift. He _wanted _to, just to be rid of the scorching pain in his scalp, because under all that hatred and aggression he was still a boy of thirteen years, even if his twin grew a hundred years older.

"I'm sorry, master!" he cried, kicking harder at the air.

"'Sorry' will _not_ obliteratewhat you did!" Caius replied angrily, raising him even higher so that he could look into his eyes. "I should kill you for this," he hissed, "It's an insult to my authority."

He stared back into his master's eyes like a kicked puppy begging for forgiveness. "I-I've spoken to master Aro," he stuttered, "He gave me permission to do what I feel is right-"

Caius snarled before throwing Alec across the room. The younger vampire's hard-rock body collided against the wall, causing stone and marble to fall to the ground in chunks just before his body slid over them.

Caius then strode towards him and dugs his nails into the soft skin of his neck and pulled him forcefully to his feet. The boy staggered before straitening up and bowing his head in utter shame and humiliation.

In times like these Alec wished he was as bold as Jane when it comes to facing the insanely wrathful leader.

"Look at me, boy," Caius demanded.

Alec's eyes briefly flickered upwards. He knew that look all too well.

"Please, master," he whimpered.

Caius grabbed his chin and jerked his face upwards. Alec pulled back on instinct the moment his eyes locked with Caius's.

The next thing he felt was his master's palm colliding with his cheek.

_Again and again and again..._

"Look at me!" he roared.

He finally looked up, revealing the evident fear on his youthful features, the one emotion he's been trying to hide from the snow-haired leader. He knew that his master now lives on fear, because _now _he has nothing else to live for. He remembers him being this angry and intimidating, Caius has had a reputation of striking fear into a strong man's heart, but until the day they confronted Carlisle's coven his master turned into a monster that destroyed everything it touched.

Can vampires even lose their sanity? Because he strongly believes that his master lost his a very long time ago.

He grabbed Alec's collar and raised his clawed hand above his head, either to slap him again or to tear his face off. Alec believed it to be the second. Though lucky for him, another hand grabbed Caius's wrist from behind just as he was about to strike, making him freeze for a millisecond.

"Let him go, brother," came Aro's smooth, collected voice. "He is but a child. It is I who insulted your authority, and for that I apologize."

Caius's expression remained the same as he released the breath he was holding. He kept his eyes on Alec as he allowed Aro to lower his still-clawed hand to his side. He continued glaring hatefully at his servant for over hundreds of years as he allowed Aro to unclench his hand from the young vampire's collar.

Alec finally regained his composure.

Aro led Caius to a sofa, where he immediately threw himself upon it, as if he just finished building an entire city in a fortnight. He threw his head back and continued to breathe heavily as he slowly closed his eyes. His expression softened a bit, though it became sorrowful instead of peaceful.

"Thank you, Alec," Aro's smooth voice drew his attention away from his internally wasted master. "You may leave us now."

Alec nodded and left quietly without protesting, once again forcefully swallowing his fear as he thought of another story he'd have to tell his sister about the new tiny scars on the back of his neck.

* * *

Marcus kept running at a human's pace, looking around desperately for a big crowed to blend with. He knew that Demetri was getting closer to him by the second, and he knew that he had already attracted unwanted attention by running with such pace and panic, but every time he stops or slows his pace he felt the tracker getting closer.

It wasn't fear of the tracker that made him run, it was his hatred of that world he abandoned that kept him going. It no longer holds any value to him, not when he just realized that it's been his prison from the very first day of his new life. He refuses to go back. No force in the universe will ever take him back, not even if his entire race turned against him for that cause. He was determined to stay as far away as possible, even if he has to kill or die a thousand times over.

He dashed into an alley in hopes of it being a shortcut. He didn't know the city as much as he thought he did, for it changed completely since the last time he saw it.

He saw cars passing by on the other side.

He ran faster, his light footsteps echoing loudly in the dark, empty alley.

Just then a silhouette of a woman appeared suddenly, blocking his way and making him reel backwards just as he was about to smash into her.

He froze when he got a good, closer look at her features.

He'd recognize her anywhere, not only because a face like hers- whether it belonged to a human or a vampire –easily stands out in a crowed, but because he's seen it too many times in the past three thousand years to forget it.

No one can truly deny the fact that Aro's mate was perhaps the most beautiful thing he stole, not even Marcus that often used to complement him about such an achievement, even though he wasn't comfortable about the way she whispered her schemes into Aro's ears.

She looked different without her cloak. Her silver-blond hair was loose, falling over her shoulders all the way to her waist in mad spirals, making her look more dangerous and reckless than she already is. Though with her formal outfit and pleasant smile it was hard to tell, but Marcus knew her well enough to make up his own theories on what might be lingering behind that smile of hers.

He growled at the sight of her teeth, warning her to keep them behind her lips before things get out of hand, and stumbling on another backwards step.

She raised a brow, smiling even wider at the sight of his angered, threatened, and retreating form. "Are you afraid of _me_, Marcus?"

"I'm warning you!" He hissed, hearing the patter of footsteps behind him.

He glanced behind his shoulders and saw Demetri and Renata slowing their pace as their eyes landed on Sulpicia and Marcus.

He gave his back to the wall, not trusting either one of them. He was giving them a chance to corner him, and he was fine with that as long as they didn't have the chance to stab him in the back.

He could...he could climb on the wall, if he was fast enough, and then jump from the building's roof on the other side. Then he could continue running until he either looses them or comes across Paris's predators. The wall was a short distance away from him; all he has to do is slowly back away from them until his back touches the bricks on the wall...

"We don't want to hurt you," Demetri said slowly. Marcus then realized that he was probably the only one in a hostile stance, whereas Demetri had both of his palms in the air while Renata seemed cautious and Sulpicia had the same infuriating pleasant smile plastered on her face.

He heard Demetri's feet shuffle.

"Don't move!" he growled as he took a step backwards. "I swear I'll kill if you dare-"

"Marcus, just hear us out," Demetri cut him off, "I understand why you wouldn't want to, but if you'd just give us two minuets of your time we'd-"

"Why the hell should I?" he snapped, making the tracker stop. It wasn't normal for him to witness a strong emotion such as anger taking over his former master so quickly and easily. "I could kill all three of you now and be on my way."

"Or you could listen," Demetri insisted.

"That's all we're asking for," Renata joined in.

Marcus's eyes flickered briefly to Renata. "I'm not obligated to," _and never will be, not now not ever..._

He took another daring step backwards. They didn't notice.

"You are, actually," Sulpicia cut in, now smiling triumphantly- if not arrogantly –back at him. "Because you see my dear, you need us just as much as we need you, if not more."

A tiny frown appeared briefly on Marcus's face.

"I said stay back!" He hissed when he saw Demetri shuffling closer, instinctively backing further away.

"You don't have to agree to our terms," Demetri said gently, as if he was coaxing a child into sleep, "we just want you to listen."

If Marcus had blood in his veins he would've turned crimson with rage.

"_Terms?" _He sounded breathless when he spoke, finally showing an expression for the first time in over a thousand years. "_You _ask _me _to-" he almost choke on those syllables, looking calmed for a millisecond before exploding so suddenly it made all three vampires lose their composure. "How _dare _you! How _dare _you seek _me_ and lay down _your_ conditions as if you've had _no_ hand in my condemnation? You'vejust given me a thousand reasons to burn you were you stand and not a single reason to hear what Aro has to say-"

"He doesn't know we're here," Demetri cut him off the moment he heard that name and got over his shock. "As far as I'm concerned, all three of us are roaming around somewhere in Italy looking for you- with the exception of Sulpicia, of course."

She rolled her eyes. "Marcus, if you're going to run off and have us chasing you then just do it now and save our breaths from all this wasted effort of persuasion."

He hadn't even realized that his back was practically grazing the wall.

Demetri's face was lit with apprehension as he took in Marcus's retreated form.

Sulpicia then smiled that maddening, amused smile. "Go on, we'll give you a head-start. I normally _don't _do that, but for you, brother, I'll make an exception."

He _almost _laughed at that, for he doesn't remember the last time he saw or heard of the wives leaving Volterra. He would've laughed, actually, at how much she sounded like a guard by _merely _implying that she's been out and about in the world if he hadn't been trapped literarily and figuratively in a situation like this.

"I will not comply with whatever game you're playing." He glared at her. "And I'm not your brother."

Her smile faltered. "Please do not insult me by visualizing me as my husband's shadow; I could barely stand living in it." Her smile returned just as quickly. "Now I'm being generous by giving you a sixty seconds head-start, so if I were you I'd take advantage of this opportunity and hide behind that mongrel you've recently grew fond of."

He bit back the many insults and profanities that were _begging _to be thrown at her, not only because those few sentences ridiculed everything he ever was and ever did, but because he simply _hates _that woman. He hated how she could be so confidant and arrogant and daring enough to be this revolting, disgraceful, _mocking _replica of Helen of Troy.

And yet his wife deeply cared for her. He could blame Aro's blind adoration on vanity and lack of depth or interest in a being's soul- or lack of, in this case. –but he couldn't identify the reasons that drove his wife into caring for that crazed woman to such an extent it wouldn't almost made him jealous of the attention she was receiving if he didn't have such a gift. He once told himself that that was how his wife was; she simply loved with no exception or reason, but years after her death he'd see her in Athenodora when she sits by Sulpicia or glides to her arms whenever she sees her after disappearing with Caius for weeks.

He could say that she's a witch that had them spellbound to her if he believed in such things.

He was tempted to run, to have those creatures tearing these vampires apart and setting them on fire, but what would that make him? A smart man or a coward? He could see her dying with that knowledge, smirking at him in triumph as her body burned to ash.

Or he could linger a moment longer and either give himself to Aro or death.

_So what's it going to be? A living coward or a dead fugitive?_

He did not live a thousand years drifting between the living and the dead to fall as a coward, even if he can't rise as a valiant.

He eyed her with such loathing she would've dropped dead if he had such a gift.

Sulpicia grinned. It's just too easy to manipulate Roman leaders. They're all the same, no matter how old and tormented they become.

"Now that we have your attention," she takes out a small, thick envelope from her coat and drops it by his feet, "you may have this."

He doesn't pick it up. He eyes her suspiciously.

She sighs, picks it up, and the gently shoves it to his chest. "I promise you it's not a bomb." She murmurs before stepping back.

He stares passively at her for a while before tearing it open. He finds that everything he needs is inside; fake IDs, passports, plane tickets...all belonging to four different people, he noticed. Two men and two women, to be specific.

He shakes his head and tosses the envelope at Demetri. "Absolutely not."

"You don't even know what we're asking for," murmured Demetri.

"I don't care, neither one of you will follow me," the older vampire replied.

"Please, we need you." Renata stepped forward, reaching out to grab his arm. He hissed and pulled himself away from her grasp. "We're not acting according to a well-constructed scheme, I swear it! We ran away for the same reason you did, we can no longer pretend that that place is the same, that it's still our home and that we still have a family waiting for us." The little vampire spoke so passionately he could almost believe her to be human. "We didn't look for you in spite or sheer desperation, we came to you because you're all that's left of what Volterra used to be thirty years ago."

She approached him then, this time cautiously, looking up at him with her wide, pleading eyes. The same eyes that were overfilled with innocence and beauty, the ones that often overwhelmed him when he looked into them for too long.

This time he allowed her to place her small hand upon his arm. "We don't have anywhere else to go," she whispered.

_Yes, because _I _have a fortress. _

But instead of unleashing that sarcastic remark he gently removed her hand from his arm.

"You need to think about this," Demetri said after a while, "and I wouldn't want to press you for time, but we're running out of it pretty quickly."

Marcus looked up at him, as if he suddenly realized that he was about to exceed his stay in Paris.

Demetri nodded, as if he just read his mind. "We've already booked a flight to Japan. It's a pretty packed country that only gets a few visiting nomads every once in a while, so you don't have to worry about getting caught. We plan on staying there until we figure things out- or until we're chased out –but you could leave us behind from there if you want to." He offered him the envelope again. "Until then, think about it."

Marcus then looked at the strings attached to him. Sulpicia knew, the moment his red irises thinned into a barely-visible ring around his enlarged pupils. She didn't know what he saw or if she should be grateful or worried, because without looking at her or speaking a word he took the envelope from Demetri's hand.

**Review, pretty please? **


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi there :D Sorry for the delay, people. This chapter and the few after it required a little bit of research, and we all know just how much I LOVE research *Sarcasm* Plus it's a filler, which is something I ADORE *you get the picture, right?* but at long last, it is complete! YAY! **

Mae was a sixty-nine year old, half European half Japanese, somewhat superstitious woman that's never been on the borders of Japan. Before she met Demetri she wasn't very fluent in any other language, including that of her European half, but she was still one of the wisest, most trustworthy people he knew. Nevertheless, Demetri didn't think that she was wise enough to accept him and include him under her good friends' category, even when she learned of his true nature in her early twenties. Still, he's honored to have been in her human life the way he is, even if she occasionally fought with him over his feeding habits.

He didn't know why, but he always thought that he'd change her if he hadn't known Renata and if he had felt more for her than just plain friendship. Maybe it's because she reminds him of all the years he could've and should've lived. Or maybe it's because Carlisle was half-right: Being with humans every once in a while isn't so bad.

Though his spirits were crushed when he saw her again after nearly thirty years of dismissed phone calls and unopened, misplaced letters. It's wasn't only because he felt guilty for abandoning her completely, nor was it because it hurt to know that only a threatening situation brought them together, but it was because she changed to the point where he didn't even recognize her.

She remembered him, though, because it'd be silly to forget such an inhumanly beautiful, unchanging face. He recognized her only when she smiled that same smile that now lacks in most of her front teeth, and when his old Volturi ring gleamed in her index finger.

He didn't like how her hair no longer possessed a speck of its midnight black glory, or how her skin grayed and fell, or how her back got it's permanent arch and how her pace slowed a hundred times. He saw that the light was already fading from her eyes, and the one thing he was grateful for was having this one last chance to say goodbye properly.

He didn't show his grief. He smiled and held her when she wrapped her weak arms around his waist, even though she unconsciously pushed Renata further away. It wasn't so hard, because despite it all he was still very happy to see her again.

Though he wasn't really planning on a visit to Japan's hillsides. He was actually planning on avoiding secluded areas, and he did so by staying in a hotel in Tokyo for nearly sixteen days. They managed pretty well at first; they mingled and socialized with no one at the same time. The stood out, yes, but not in a way that made them seem suspicious. After all, this was Tokyo. Everyone visits Tokyo, or at least dreams of it, including the strange and the creepy.

Sulpicia was awed by the sights. Demetri was afraid she'd loose control in being around so many humans for the first time since god knows when, and the fact that she just went out whenever the hell she felt like it did not make him feel any better, nor when she deliberately ignored his request to take someone with her, namely himself. Surprisingly enough, she kept her thirst in check, and so far he hadn't heard of whispers of beauty that's strangely unsettling.

He had to give her credit for that. She deserved it, because he can't even begin to imagine how crazy she could've become after spending centuries either locked behind tower walls or her husband's guards.

Renata seemed fine. She had actually been to Japan many times before, and she was introduced to Mae by Demetri himself at the old woman's thirty-fourth birthday. They got along well, though he saw Mae tensing a little when she caught sight of Renata's red irises.

Marcus, on the other hand, was more of a burden than Demetri expected him to be. As a matter of fact, the tracker was shocked by the ancient's guarding eyes. He had expected the women to react like that, not his former master that had fought gruesome battles in most of his human and vampire years.

He was quiet on the plane ride to Japan. He didn't breathe a word or a give away anything on his face other than boredom, even when Renata tried to start a conversation with him. Demetri thought that he was too busy thinking about their offer, but the moment they left the airport he started to panic. He kept glancing behind his shoulders and speeding up his pace whenever he _thought _he smelled a vampire nearby, and that made Demetri hold his shoulder to keep him from running at vampire speed right in front of the humans all the way to their hotel, because the ancient simply refuses to believe that they were safe.

_How desperate is he to not get caught? _He often wondered whenever he saw Marcus jumping on his feet at the sound of a pin dropping in the room above theirs.

"He knows that Aro will do the impossible to get to him." Sulpicia had explained when he caught up with her one day in the crowded streets. "He knows that if Aro's guards fail him he'll personally search for him. There are too many humans in here, many that will never forget his face, and many that could brush by Aro if the idea to search in Tokyo strikes him."

"If he was so afraid of the consequences then why did he run away?"

"He's not afraid of the consequences. He could care less about his life at this point. He's afraid of what he might see in Volterra now that he knows the truth. He knows that his conscious won't be so merciful, because even when he was shielded from that knowledge it still tormented him."

"I don't even want to understand him. Heck, vampires are not supposed to have a conscious!"

She had glared at him. "If I were you, tracker, I'd watch my mouth. That conscious saved your life. Never forget that."

And, just like that, he was silenced.

He then waited. Marcus may rely too much on his emotions, but he was still a rational man. Leadership had made him that despite himself, he had to calm down _sometime. _

Sometime was taking too long. He was attracting too much unwanted attention.

Still, they couldn't leave. Where else would they go? Back to Paris? Not likely.

And that's when he remembered Mae. He didn't want to involve her in this madness, especially when Aro was fully aware of her value to the tracker, but he felt that he had nowhere else to go. He knew that she would shelter him despite the danger she'd be putting herself in, and he hated the fact that he wouldn't be able to protect her when his former masters find her and torture the answers out of her.

He told her everything without asking her for a place to stay. But who was he trying to fool? This was Mae! She knew him better than his own mother did, and unlike his mother she'd go to the end of the line for him.

She remembered Renata. She was a little skeptic of Sulpicia. She flat out refused to allow Marcus to breathe the air inside her house.

Demetri was taken aback. He implored her to relent, saying over and over again that he trusted Marcus with his own life, but she just wouldn't budge, nor would she state her reasons. After many failed attempts from Sulpicia's side and Renata's wide, heartbreaking pleading eyes she hesitantly offered him her backyard. Just as Demetri was about to push his luck Marcus bowed politely and made his way around the house.

And that's where he's been for the past week. It didn't matter much to him, because it's not like he'd need to sleep or anything. All he needed was the quiet, and he got much of that in the backyard with the sunny sky and the blossoming flowers of the tree he sat under.

Demetri was fine with it as long as Marcus was comfortable, and so was Renata. Mae didn't make a very good first impression on Sulpicia, but then again, most people don't. What Demetri wasn't so happy about was his immobility, the fact that he literarily spent every waking minuet in the same spot. He didn't even move his limbs. Demetri trusted the ancients to be very well in control of their instincts, but how long could he truly go on without a drop of blood?

Besides, using Mae's cups to serve blood to Marcus was out of the question. The vampire needed to leave the house for a few hours; he needed blood of anything living.

Demetri tried to coax him into leaving once. It was like talking to a brick wall.

Sometimes he thinks that Marcus is being stubborn and irrational on purpose just to chase them off. He didn't understand it, though. Why would he do that when Demetri already told him that it was _his _choice, not theirs?

"Do you think it's all beginning to sink in?" he once asked out loud for no one in specific. "I mean, he was pretty distracted in Paris, and once you really think about it...it's kind of too much, even for Marcus."

Renata shrugged. "Maybe you should just give him some space. Like you said, it's all too much to take in, and he just realized it." She frowned. "I think."

"It's like you two have never served him before in your lives." Sulpicia rolled her eyes. "If he _allowed _a portion of it to sink in he'd be on a rampage as we speak."

Demetri sighed. Why doesn't he just address her? She seems to know the man inside out. "And your theory is...?"

She smiled that knowing, victorious smile. She just loves to get on his nerves. "Isn't it obvious, Demetri? The need of space, silence, and the lack of movements or words...? Oh, for goodness' sake, the man is meditating!" She snapped when his blank expression just got blanker.

* * *

"Do you think he'll ever come around?" Renata had asked a few nights later. She was watching Marcus's frozen form from behind the closed sliding doors, wrapping herself with her slender arms as if she felt the cool air caressing her ice-cold skin.

It was already dark outside. Marcus's skin glowed under the moonlight, resembling that of a marble statue. The light Spring winds playfully ruffled his hair to whisper in his ears, but he seemed too distracted to pay attention to it. He just sat under Mae's tree and allowed the bright pink flowers to land and gather on his lap and shoulders, the only thing removing them would be the next gust of wind.

Demetri walked over to Renata and warped his arms around her waist, and when she didn't lean back he rested his chin on her shoulder. He looked straight ahead at Marcus, and he was able to see from the distance separating them that his skin got ten times paler, and his eyes were blacker than the night's sky shielding him. His lids were so dark they were almost black, and for a second there he thought that the older vampire's skin got pealed off to reveal the skull underneath.

He really needed to feed.

"He looks awful," Renata added.

"He should," Demetri murmured. "He went through hell."

"We all did."

"We're ok now. You and I are together and Sulpicia's free."

She didn't say anything to that, but he felt her tensing in his arms for half a second.

"Marcus isn't," he continued. "Volterra was his life."

She remained silent and unmoving. Demetri assumed that she was thinking about Marcus, but then he saw her reflection in the glass. Her eyes were cast downwards, as if she was too ashamed to lift them off the ground beneath her feet. At first he thought it was concern, because he knew Renata well enough. She would feel sorry for anyone, even if it was her own enemy. She didn't know Marcus at all before their elopement, but she still felt sorry for him anyway. She didn't like that he was always getting hurt by those closest to him. She knew the feeling very well, because until Aro stepped into her life she was living with it.

But then she removed his arms and stepped away. If he hadn't caught her eyes avoiding his he wouldn't have thought much about it, and once he heard that low, yet ragged breath leaving her chest all thoughts of Marcus were automatically gone.

"Ren," he reached out for her wrist and missed. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Why did you come?" She asked, tilting her head to the side without really turning around to face him. "You were a guard of the highest rank. If we're caught, and if Aro's merciful enough to spare your life, you'll never reach so high again."

Demetri sighed exasperatingly. "Why do you always have to go there? I've already told you, none of that crap matters to me."

"But you worked so hard for it."

He approached her again, but when he tried to make her turn around she shrugged his hands off of her shoulders. "I worked hard to be near you. I wouldn't have an excuse to talk to you unless I was close to Aro. I really didn't care about getting a promotion, so long as I had a roof above me and my friends around me and blood to sedate my thirst."

He stepped before her and placed his palm on her cheek, making her look up at him despite herself. "It _did _feel good to have such power, but not nearly as good as being around you."

He leaned in. She shook her head and gently removed his hand from her cheek, keeping it in hers for a second longer before releasing it. "You don't know what you're giving up."

"I do," He replied a little too quickly, too stubbornly, "and I don't care."

For a moment there he thought he saw misery casting a shadow over her angelic features, but like most things these days it was gone as quickly as it came. She opened her mouth, and Demetri waited for her to say something, but then she closed it and walked away from him towards the sliding door that led to the hallway.

"Ren, wait-" he was about to follow her, but when she opened the door Mae appeared. Renata paused, nodded in acknowledgement, and then brushed past the old lady. "I'm sorry, Mae-" he was about to do the same but the human wouldn't have it.

"Stay back, Demetri." She tugged at his arm. "My dear old friend, we need to talk."

He kept his eyes on Renata's dissolving form as Mae pushed him back into the room. "I'd love to catch up, but can't it wait for a few more minuets?"

"You have eternity with her," she replied, stepping on her toes to place her thin hands on his shoulders. "I don't know how long I have left, but I do know that I won't see you again."

That had him focused on her.

He allowed her to push his shoulders down until he was sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor. He didn't say anything; he just stared at her and waited patiently for her to make herself comfortable on the floor in front of him.

She was too slow. He didn't mind the wait; he just hated seeing her like _that. _He remembers her being on the track team in her college years, running so fast she made him believe that she would've been the fastest vampire made. Speed was her gift. Demetri was not an expert in detecting such things like Eleazar was, but he saw it clearly in her.

"Mae, why do you reside on the hillsides?" He heard himself asking, still staring at her in wonder.

She smiled at his question. It wasn't a sad smile, nor was it joyful from her youthful days. "Sounds crazy, doesn't it? After all these years of working behind desks in the busy offices of Tokyo I'd find myself here, in between all this simple greenery."

He bowed his head.

She placed her hand on top of his folded, freezing ones. "Do not be saddened by my departure from this life, Demetri."

He folded his fingers around hers and gave her the half-smile she was so fond of. "I can't help it. When you're gone I won't have anyone to pick on."

She chuckled and pushed his hand away.

"What?" His smile turned playful. "My life would be boring as hell; I think I have the right to lament over loosing it."

"Your life? Boring? Ha! With Renata in it I highly doubt it."

He grinned. Like a child speaking about a favorite toy, he was always excited to talk about Renata. "She's so out of this world, Mae! I just can't believe I'm finally with her, I mean _actually _with her! Can _you _believe it? I never thought I'd get as close as to a secret affair, but then Marcus escapes and everything works out." He paused. "Ok, so maybe Marcus escaping isn't a very good thing, but still. I have a chance with Renata."

He didn't notice Mae's smile faltering slowly before disappearing completely. He didn't notice the look of despair on her aged face as she heard him talk about Renata. It was like that with everyone, he'd notice nothing other than Renata's eyes in his mind, or her timid smile, or the way he'd think he saw her dancing as she glided gracefully behind Aro. The person could drop dead and he still wouldn't notice. He'd just go on and spill his heart out on silver plates as if nothing happened.

"I don't know how the whole 'mate' thing works," he adds, "and I really hate how clichéd this sounds, but I think Renata's the one."

Of course, Mae knew all about vampires and their mates. "Wait, so you're telling me that you've _never _been in love in the past seven hundred years?" She laughed then, lightly and wholeheartedly. "I'm barely seventy and I've had lovers I can't even remember!"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I fell in love," he mumbled, "I just...I don't know. None of them were anything like Renata, I guess."

There was a short pause. This time Demetri caught a strained emotion lingering in the old woman's eyes, but just as he was about to question her on it she cuts him off by speaking first. "What's the difference?"

He frowned. "Between my previous lovers and Renata? Loads-!"

She shook her head. "I was talking about a lover and a mate. You've explained it to me many times before, but I still don't get it. Now, I don't want to die without getting a proper answer, because quite frankly this topic's been bothering me for many years."

"Mae, please don't say that." He sighed. "You're not dying yet. I'll come by some other time, and when I do you'll be the same as you are today."

"Oh. It must be soon, then."

"Mae!"

"I am happy!" She placed her hand on his. She was still smiling, as if she was talking about a recent achievement rather than her own death. "I came from a loving family, I've had amazing friends that have supported me throughout the years and went to their graves before me, and my career life was as successful as it can be. I knew what it's like to be at the top of the world, and yet I found happiness here when my husband and I moved in '72. My son and daughter are no longer in need of me, and my grandchildren are too young to miss me. I've lost several times and I've won only few- that I will admit -but now that I think about it I don't find it as bothersome as I thought I'd do."

She was being honest. He could see right through her. Still, it didn't stop him from feeling so miserable. "It shouldn't be like this."

She laughed again, loudly and cheerfully. "Why not? It's the best way to leave!" She stopped when she saw that he really didn't think it was funny. She smiled sweetly at him and squeezed his hand. "If I had the chance to take anything back, I'd leave that opportunity to someone else. I'm satisfied with how my life turned out. You being an essential part of it made it even greater, Demetrius."

He smiled back at the sound of his real name. It's truly been a while since he last heard it.

"So," she says after a while, "you still didn't answer my question."

Just like that, his mind was quickly set on Renata. He opened his mouth with the Volturi-high-ranking guard confidence, but when he tried to speak he found himself unable to form the simplest word. It made his mind race. His tongue felt as heavy as steel in his mouth, and he feared that if he attempted to speak he'd be stuttering again, which would've been fine with him if the words he spoke were actual words.

He paused and then shrugged. "It's a strong feeling, I guess. I-I don't really get it. I'm still new at it. All I really know is that I can't even _think _about being apart from her. With the others it was almost as strong, but deep down I knew and accepted the fact that I was a part of an important, ruling organization. I had to leave them someday, and though I was a little saddened with the idea, I still accepted it and placed my masters before everything and everyone."

"But with Renata it's the other way around." She completed his unspoken sentence.

He smiled. "Yea, exactly." His eyes flickered towards the sliding doors that led to the backyard. "You know, Marcus knows these things better than I do. You could ask him if you really want to-"

"Don't! Do not say his name!" She cut him off. Her expression had changed so suddenly it stunned the tracker into a shocked, silent state. She no longer looked like that soft, sweet old lady that fed stray cats. The inviting glow had faded from her wrinkly skin, and in its place he glimpsed flickers of unspoken fear. He opened his mouth to ask her about it, but she had already stood on her feet with speed that should've been harmful on her weak, withering human body.

He got up with her, easily towering over her like he always did in the past. He placed his hands comfortingly on her shoulders and tried to soothe her, even though he didn't know the cause of her distress, but she still wouldn't stop shivering or muttering in Japanese.

Was it because of Marcus's nature...? If so then why didn't she react the same way when he confessed to her in college? And why wasn't she casting Sulpicia out or threatening Renata with religious symbols? Demetri knew that the surrounding houses' customs had greatly affected her, but she was still smarter than that! She was still that odd, rational girl he once knew, even if he could clearly see her life fading right before his eyes.

"Mae, just calm down," he murmured softly, as if he was trying to induce an infant to sleep. "Just tell me; what is it that's bothering you about him? I trust him, Mae. I'm sure it's all just a simple misunderstanding, and if you get to know him-"

"No!" She would've screamed if she had the energy for it. "Never suggest such things! You might as well sell my soul for the Devils to devour!"

He froze. "Wha-? Mae!" he shook his head. "Ok, you're freaking me out. Do you remember what I am?"

"You're not him," she replied, "you're a monster indeed, but you're not him."

"What's _him_, he's like me! He's just older by thousands of years, that's why his skin and eyes look different."

She slowly shook her head. "My dear, you're not looking hard enough, you never have in the many centuries you've served him."

"Ok then, tell me what I'm missing." He urged, guiding her towards the sliding doors despite her efforts to stay in the corner. "I can't help but see him the way I do, even now when everything and everyone's changing, and I can't help but trust him."

Reluctantly she followed his gaze to the stony man in her backyard, still slumped on her tree's bark as if he was attempting to merge with it. Her expression softened a little, though much to Demetri's disappointment and utter confusion it twisted from fear and anxiety to concern. Not for Marcus, the man who did nothing to deserve the fleeing vampires' sympathy and loyalty, but for Demetri, the polite, friendly tracker that gave away so much for many things that he may not gain.

She sighed. "You trust him because you're desperate," she said, this time calmer, as she gazed through the glass at Marcus's frozen form. "But if I were you I'd go back to Italy and beg for forgiveness."

"Why?" he asked, turning to her, trying to keep his tone in check. Mae was definitely strong for a human, but she wasn't the brave young woman he once knew. He had to be soft with her, softer than he was in her teenage years. "Why would you want me to go back _there? _This is what I want; it's where I'm meant to be. I've made the right choice. I'm sure of it."

"Yes, but your trusting the wrong person." She then turned to him. "Death lingers about him, Demetri. I can feel its decaying presence even now, when he's a safe distance away. I can see that it's not interested in him because he's already half-dead, neither is it interested in the woman accompanying you, because she is almost as lifeless."

He held back a groan. He almost forgot. Mae used to strongly believe that she had 'supernatural' abilities, and she often used strange words and idols to explain her premonitions, or 'hunches'. Of course, he never believed in them, not only because every single premonition she's ever had in her life was wrong, but because it's just ridicules to simply believe that such things could possibly exist within a human with limited abilities and senses.

They argued about it many times in the past, and even when he won she'd still ignore his reasons and believe in the abilities that she does not possess.

And now, apparently, she believes even more in them.

He blames the neighboring houses. He knows they encouraged her.

But right now he really didn't want to argue with her.

"That's because we _are _dead," he said after a while, "and he's been dead for a longer time."

"It wants you," she said, completely ignoring him. "Despite what you are, you're still so full of life. You're bursting with happiness, the one thing your master lacks and desires most."

He scoffed. "So what, I'm going to die?"

She didn't answer straight away. "Take your woman and abandon him. He is the bringer of death, Demetrius. He will not give you what you want."

A chill, the kind that he remembers getting in his human years, ran down his spine at her words. It startled him, not only because he forgot the feeling, but because he was never affected in any way or form when she spoke of her 'sightings'. Still, he wasn't going to dwell on it nor was he going to let her know about it.

There were no solid facts supporting her, because yes, even vampires have doubts when it comes to the supernatural. For instance, he knew for a fact that Marcus, besides Renata, is the only vampire he could trust. "Mae, I can't. I _won't_. He's not like that; you're just paranoid because you don't know him. I've served him for seven hundred years, and I haven't doubted him once. Really, you have no idea how rare but _weird _his requests were." He chuckled at the last part.

There were many things even the ancient didn't know. Demetri believes that other creatures might coexist with his own kind, but as long as they're not documented somewhere within Aro's scrolls he wouldn't believe in them until one of the ancients confirms their existence. However, he did think about the possibilities whenever he had the chance to dream, and in his newborn years he used to have fantasies about discovering these creatures himself.

"So long as he's in your life, you're in danger of the darkness that accompanies him," she said, turning back to the glass, "whether he intends for it to harm you or not."

A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips. "No need to worry, Mae. I'm pretty sure that I have my own kind of 'darkness' hanging around me."

She glared at the glass, and at first Demetri thought that his last comment made her angry, but just as he was about to apologize his eyes automatically followed her line of view.

Marcus had shifted. There was a very slight, almost unnoticeable change in his manner. He still had his back pressed to the bark of the tree and his knees a little above the grass, but he was no longer staring blankly ahead. His head was still resting on the tree's hard surface, but it was tilted slightly, and his eyes were staring bluntly and pointedly at Mae.

Demetri wasn't really sure if he should be happy or concerned. He was glad that the ancient moved a muscle or two, but he wasn't so sure if he liked the way he was staring at his old friend. He didn't look like he considered her to be a proper substitute for a healthy, vigorous youth. His eyes were too dark, the light milky film was completely gone, and the way he was staring at her made Demetri think about all that talk about darkness.

Mae breathed deeply from her nose, and then exhaled from her mouth. It was a calming, breathing exercise she used to perform whenever she was angered or annoyed at something or someone.

He looked away from Marcus. She didn't.

"You may put your life and that of the ones you love in his hands," she said, "but one thing you must know is that, in the end, you will suffer the most from the outcome."

"Mae," he said softly.

She shook her head, and forcefully tore her eyes from Marcus's. She forced an encouraging smile for him and reached out. He leaned down so that she could reach his cheek. "I only have one wish, my beloved, dear old friend. It's to be dead and buried by the time you take that hard, long, agonizing journey."

**Hi again :D I'm halfway through the next chapter, because for some reason I REALLY can't stop writing, even though my eyes are tearing up after the long hours I've spend staring at nothing other than the screen of the laptop, and OHMYGOD my fingers wont stop shaking O.o So, yea, just let me know what you think, and if I'm crazy just go ahead and say it, because let's face it, if it's true someone will HAVE to say it :P **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hmmm...what's this I see, two updates in less three days? I'm on fire! **

**Well, I would've been burning hot if I was allowed to type for a longer time -.-' Still, this is like an accomplishment for me, that one writer that doesn't update her stories as much as she should :D But I didn't do my homework, so it kind of puts the whole 'accomplishment' thing down X_X **

**Pshht, whatever. It's just homework :P **

**And lookee here, I've written something on the Egyptian coven for the first time in the three or four years I've been writing in the Twilight fandom! Enjoy that my lovely Egyptian-fan readers :D **

Kebi sighed at the sight of the peach blossoms thrown carelessly on Tia's bed. She wasn't content, nor did she sigh in admiration of their beauty or their powerful scent, because from where she stood she could smell them welting and she could see that the sender was so careless he didn't even try to arrange the soft petals that got torn after being handled so roughly. Yes, she assumed that the sender was a man, namely Amun, because, really, who other than her husband would go to such extents?

Tia was out hunting. Kebi was grateful, because now she has over an hour to get rid of the flowers and their scent. That way, hopefully, she'd avoid witnessing Amun and Tia having yet another fight. If it didn't come to a fight she wouldn't have to pick Amun's side again, even if she did think that Tia had every right to be angry and insolent.

Though if Amun knew that she had a hand in _this _he would be very unpleased with her, which is the one thing she dreads the most.

In the end none of it matters. She was still going to have to choose between them, even now when she was alone with her own thoughts without either one of them pressuring her to step away from the other.

She knew that her husband was at fault, that he was breaching his limits by going through the trouble of ordering flowers all the way from Japan just to remind Tia of things she'd rather forget. She knew that he was being silly- no, he was being _stupid _to assume that he just knows how a woman thinks, especially one like Tia. He thinks he's being sensitive and considerate by reminding her that, despite his rebellious ways, Benjamin stayed.

He's reopening old wounds. Kebi hates being so helpless, so unable to stop him from continuously inflicting pain on Tia.

Maybe she should just talk to him, like normal wives do to their over-protective, controlling husbands. Maybe this time he'll listen.

The again, Amun looked down upon those husbands. He refuses to be like them, even when time passed and women became leaders and philosophers and scientists. Even when the Volturi gave their women their voices back, his hatred for them just increased.

She could leave, of course. He wouldn't be able to stop her now. Or she could just defy him _once, _and then maybe his mind will evolve slightly in that direction.

Ah, but how could she when she was practically basking in the glory of his shadow? She loved him too much. That was the problem.

She shook her head, dismissing such thoughts immediately. Tia had always said that Amun didn't deserve Kebi. Tia never really liked Amun. She said that Kebi was better off with a Mongolian, and Benjamin agreed wholeheartedly. Kebi got angry, as expected, and she scolded them and remained upset with them for a very long time.

She decided to wait for Tia. Maybe she could explain Amun's situation and calm her, because despite how he is Amun really loved Benjamin, and because Benjamin loved Tia he felt the same. He wouldn't want her to leave. Why would he go through all that trouble for an ungifted coven member? Yes, he had good intentions...he just didn't know how to express them properly.

Kebi doubts that Tia would listen, better yet believe a word of that nonsense.

Quiet frankly she didn't believe it herself.

She sat on the bed with an exhausted sigh. Things were getting too tense, too hectic nowadays within her coven. She heard that other covens had it worse, and she thought of investigating but Amun wouldn't allow it. He's been keeping his coven close to him and away from the outside vampire world, and he intended to keep it the way it is for as much as possible. He lost his trust in them, and nothing that could happen would ever change his mind about them. They were all the same; they were all as hypocritical and volatile as he'd expected them to be.

Still, she feels it in her dead, unbeaten heart. Something wasn't right in the vampire world. A perfect balance had been greatly disturbed, and a huge, unbearable weight had been cast on one side. She couldn't detect the cause of the disruption, but she fears its consequences.

She picked up one of the blossoms that had most of its faded petals intact. She breathed in its scent. Just as she suspected. It wasn't brought from its native soil. It was too faint, too deformed. It had to be a lame, failed attempt at making it adapt in a place that's entirely different. How did it survive for so long, Kebi would always wonder but will never know.

"Please, _please _tell me that those _things _you're holding are yours!"

She almost jumped at the sound of Tia's voice. She hadn't even heard her come in, nor did she prepare herself in the unlikely event that Tia might be angry by the time she returns, which is happening right now. She stood up slowly, with the flower still in her hand, and looked pleadingly at the younger female in both human and vampire years.

There was no sign of Tia's hunting trip other than the brilliant shade of red around her pupils and the dried crimson droplets in her midnight curls. The look of disdain was clear on her pale features. Kebi had hoped to be approach calmly, because she really wasn't very good with fury.

"Tia-" she tried, probably doing the bravest thing she could ever dare to accomplish in her life.

"_No!" _The younger vampire was absolutely livid. "I've had it, ok? He just can't keep doing this, it isn't fair! I've done _nothing _to deserve such harsh treatments, I've been putting up with his dictatorial attitude with a smile for far too long, and he's been shoving it all back in my face. I could've left centuries ago, and trust me I've had enough pride and dignity to do so, but for Benjamin's sake I stayed!" Her voice cracked at the end, and Kebi found herself gliding towards her with a mother's warmth and widespread arms.

"Don't even bother!" She snapped, backing away from her. "You'll take his side anyway."

"Sweetheart, he doesn't mean it like that," she whispered gently. "I wish he'd take a different route, but you know how he is."

Tia scoffed. "Yea, and I bet he's secretly feeding orphans when no one's watching, because he's just _that _great!"

Tia ran her fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, because even though Kebi angered her whenever she tries to talk her out of fighting Amun, she still didn't deserve to be shunned from both sides. She was a good, unfortunate woman that ended up with an ass of a husband and an ungrateful daughter-figure.

She brushed past Kebi and flopped on her bed, ignoring the blossoms that got crushed under her weight. She thought that if she was a teenage human with weak lungs she'd just grab a pillow and cover her face with it. What would Amun do then, when he finds her purple-faced and rigid?

"I don't want you to go either," she heard Kebi's soft voice nearby. She opened her eyes and saw her sitting next to her on the bed, with that flower still in her hand. "But if you must...if it truly is too hard and if you find it too unbearable to stay any longer... If leaving will bring you the peace we can't offer, then..." she turned away. She's been with Tia for far too long, letting her go was just too hard. It was like letting her own daughter step into the beast's lair. "Just know that you'll always have a place here with us. Even if Egypt wasn't practically kind to you in your human days, know that it's still your home."

Seconds passed in silence, before Kebi felt Tia's arms wrap around her shoulders and a quick, loving kiss planted on her cheek. The older woman smiled and gently squeezed Tia's wrist with her free hand.

"I wish you'd come with me," Tia murmured. "You make it even harder for me to go."

"Then don't," she replied quietly. "Amun will stop if you stay. Things will get better someday. We'll be happy again, just like we used to be thirty years ago."

Tia didn't respond immediately. "Me, _happy_? Not without Benjamin." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Kebi. I just can't stay here any longer, I can't ignore the fact that thirty years ago he and I used to lie on this bed, or walk in that garden, or drink from those cups, or..." she trailed off. A distant look came upon her before she shook it off just as the older woman was about to peak at it. "There are too many memories in this place." She whispered at last, hoping that Kebi would just understand and drop the subject.

But she didn't. How could she, when the man she loves was still in her reach? How could she understand what Tia's going through, how hearing Benjamin's laughter echoing in the hallway tears through her chest every single time? Or how cold her room had gotten? Or how the flowers on the windowsill welted, and new ones simply wouldn't grow despite her tender and watchful ways?

Kebi hesitated. "Darling, it's too late for Benjamin. I want nothing in the world other than yours and Amun's happiness, and I'm sorry to tell you this, but he will never return."

Tia shook her head, feeling the stinging of tears that will never fall. _You just don't understand. You don't know what it's like, if it was Amun instead of Ben you would've left years ago. You would've joined him if you had the choice, just like I've wanted to..._

She didn't voice these thoughts, because talking with Kebi was futile. She was a wonderful listener, but when it comes to matters on love and loss she was bad at consoling. She tires, though, and for that Tia will always cherish her.

Both women froze at the sound of Amun's voice. They didn't expect him to return so soon, and Kebi was hoping he'd take his time in that business meeting like he always does.

Tia released Kebi. She hopped off the bed and walked towards the door, most probably heading towards wherever Amun was at just to throw away the many insults she comes with up everyday just for him. Kebi got up with the intention of holding her back, but because her husband had the worst timing in the world, he just happened to walk in the moment Tia reached the door.

His blank expression surprised both women. In situations like these he'd either have a smirk or a scowl set in place, but as they waited and when they're eyes widened slightly an irritated, partly confused look flickered across his paled features. He glanced between both women, waiting for one of them to elaborate, and when none of them spoke he went for the weaker of the two.

"What's the matter?" He asked Kebi.

Kebi toyed nervously with the blossom in her hand. She looked away from Amun's searching eyes and hoped that Tia would just drop the subject and storm out.

Tia glared venomously at Amun and placed her hands on her hips. "Oh, like _you_ wouldn't know?"

"Know what?" He glanced back and forth between the two women. "What on Earth are you talking about?" Amun's expression remained as puzzled. It aggravated Tia.

She turned around and marched to where Kebi stood by the bed. She snatched the fragile plant out of Kebi's nurturing hands and marched back to Amun, almost shoving the thing in his face. "What is _this?_"

He wrinkled his nose as the soft petals brushed against his skin. He slapped her hand away from his face, the fragile plant fell off a short distance away. "I'll tell you when I become a florist," he grumbled, straightening his clothes and looking pretty much irritated with Tia's un-Kebi-like attitude. "And how, dare I ask, am I at fault in whatever the hell's bothering you about this flower?"

"Amun!" Tia almost screamed, looking like she was on the verge of tearing her hair off.

"What?" He screamed back, because no matter what, no woman may ever raise her voice over his, especially that of his own coven. "Know your place, Tia, and come back to me when you're ready to speak properly." He growled before giving her his back.

"Un-_fucking_-believable!" She threw the closest small vase at his back.

He froze by the door. Kebi took a daring step forward.

"What is the _meaning _of this?" She pointed at the cast-aside blossom as if it was her arch nemesis. "You think you could just do that and make me stay? You think that by reminding me of Benjamin I'll just cancel my plans and stay just so you could continue to push me around like some dog? Well, _I _have news for _you_, my dear Amun. Whether you like it or not, I'm leaving tomorrow. Nothing you could do or say will ever make me stay."

She found herself panting. Her palms were stinging, her nails were digging too deep. Her throat felt a little drier, and her eyes stung with dry tears, but none of it mattered to her. She was beyond angry, she wasn't going to let him see her cry, even if her tears were those of anger. She wasn't going to leave him satisfied in any way or form, she was going to crush his immense pride in himself and in his sex, even if it hurts Kebi.

Slowly, he turned around. His face was contorted in rage, it could kill people if such things were possible. She heard Kebi shuffling closer, always ready to put herself in between the two people she love the most and get scarred by it soon after. Tia braced herself for whatever he was going to unleash upon her. She wasn't going to let Kebi get involved this time. It hurt her to be completely alone.

She could hear him restraining growls. "And _what _have I done to prevent you from doing so? If anything, I'd have you out of here this minuet instead of tomorrow. I've only kept you for so long to honor Benjamin, nothing more or less, and if I had it my way it would've been you the Volturi took instead of him." He straightened his back, giving her that haughty look she'd love to tear off. "You want to leave?" He asked, sounding a lot more in control than he was a second ago. "Good. Leave, and never come back or dare speak my name or think it. That's one less cursed, worthless, wasteful creature in my existence. What more could I possible ask for?"

Kebi couldn't conceal the anguished look on her face. Every single word he uttered felt like barbed wires coiling around her and squeezing her so tightly they were draining her of every drop of blood. It was like he couldn't help _but _hurt her every time he speaks, and instead of expressing her thoughts she just nods and smiles in contentment.

She had reserved a room for Tia. He wouldn't have that, and because he wouldn't she's forced to follow suit. She had promised to always be there for her, but now Amun was clearly tired of having Tia around, and as long as she lives in his shadow she'll never see Tia again. He thinks that Tia's the one person in his life that he was glad to be rid of...did that make Kebi the second person?

She was his slave, but he had changed her right before he married her, so why does she still feel like a slave to him? Why does she feel so compelled to please him, and why doesn't she feel a spark of anger whenever he steps out of line?

Tia wasn't moved by his hatred. She remained still and strong, something Kebi admired yet feared and disliked at the same time. "Oh, so peach blossoms just happen to fly all the way from Japan and land on my bed on the day of my and Benjamin's anniversary? You know, just like he did before, except he didn't really like peach blossoms. He wouldn't give them to me on our anniversary, because they're believed to have some sort of a supernatural ability that wards off whatever's evil or demonic."

His frown returned. It was deeper this time, and he didn't even try to hide his confusion. "If I had known the meaning I would've sent them in larger piles, but I assure you that I was far too busy to keep track of anyone's anniversary, namely yours. Someone else must've sent them." He glanced at Kebi, who wiped off her previous expression and shook her head.

Tia scoffed. "Sure they did."

Kebi mirrored his expression.

"Did they come with a card?" he asked, momentarily forgetting his feud with the little vampire.

Kebi went back to the bed and started searching through the scattered petals and broken stems. Why hadn't she thought of this before?

Tia was about to join her just as she found a small, folded card that had been crumbled slightly under Tia's weight. She allowed said vampire to take it from her hand and unfold it.

"Who sent them?" Amun asked as he came towards them.

Kebi peaked at the card from behind Tia's shoulders and frowned.

Tia ignored Amun's question. "It says: Look out your windows. Rome is falling." She turned the card. "No signature."

"What does it mean?" Kebi asked.

Tia shrugged, allowing Amun to snatch the card from her fingers. "I thought Rome fell over a thousand years ago or something. And how does that concern me, anyway?"

They both turned to Amun for answers. He looked even paler than usual. His hands were still frozen with the card, and he seemed too lost in the thoughts swimming in his mind to remember to breathe. His eyes kept moving over the words, as if he wasn't so sure if this was all a dream or reality, and he turned the card over and over again the same way Tia did, as if he was one hundred percent sure that he'd find a signature or an answer hidden somewhere.

Kebi stepped around Tia and tenderly placed her hand on top of his, which only made him jump slightly at the sudden contact. He glared at her for a second before allowing the muscles on his face to relax, though his eyebrows were still knit and his lips remained thin with...what was that? Anticipation? Fear? Concern?

"Do not leave yet," he said to Tia without looking away from Kebi. "I have to make a few phone calls."

Tia blinked. "Why?"

"Do not leave at all," he said, sounding half-authorative, half-alarmed. He grabbed Kebi's wrist and pulled her closer, and for a moment there Kebi thought he was going to embrace her, but then she remembered the kind of person Amun was. He abhorred public displays of attention. "Do not leave her until I return," he instructed, looking as serious as he did in their last visit to the United States. "You are to do whatever it takes to keep her here, and you may never leave her under any circumstances until I return."

She didn't say anything. She just stared at him, openly yet silently questioning him.

His hand tightened slightly on her wrist. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, yes," she said, nodding vigorously, her dark curls bouncing lightly over her shoulders.

Tia hadn't heard enough. She wasn't like Kebi, she didn't wait for updates to come to her. She grabbed them at the first chance she'd get. She had learned to speak up at all times over the years, even when she was at fault. It saddened her to have learned it the hard way, but she was proud of herself nevertheless.

Amun was about to leave. She had grabbed his arm and made him face her again. "Hey, what's going on?" She asked, though her tone was more demanding than enquiring. "What did that thing in the card signify?"

He glared at her and forcefully shook her hands off of his arm. "Not now, Tia, I must hurry."

"Where?" She pursued. "Is the card a threat?"

He paused and continued to glare at her for a while. "Just this once," he said quietly, "listen to me and stay. Know that I _will _have you bound if that's what it'll take to keep you here."

"Yea, like I'll just let you do that," she rolled her eyes. "Those days are over, Amun. I'm not that girl anymore. I have questions and I want them answered now, so if you're interested in keeping me here a few more days I suggest you answer them immediately."

He narrowed his eyes warningly at her. She raised a brow and folded her arms over her chest, making a big, pretty exaggerated show of stubbornness and determination.

Poor Kebi looked utterly lost between the two. All she had to do was wait- and hope –for Amun to storm out in rage. Or he could ask her to support him, which would be the decision she wouldn't want him to make. On the other hand she had Tia, whom she internally supported at this very moment, and right now she was extremely worried about her. The flowers were obviously meant for her, and whoever sent them might have a horrible, unspeakable scheme in mind.

The staring contest continued, neither one of the contestants willing to surrender. Every passing minuet was maddening Kebi, making her believe for a moment that she was going to die of anxiety if they proceeded with their silly, useless banter. Time was weighing heavily on her, especially now when the sense of danger got multiplied by the note in the card.

She'd want nothing more than to voice her concerns. But how could she, when her husband and daughter-in-law were too busy fighting each other. And why would they listen, when one of them believed in nothing called a hunch and the other refused to hear what he did not like to hear coming from her?

Much to her astonishment, Amun gave up first. "If you want your answers, you will have to let me find my own first."

Tia shook her head. "I don't understand...Are we in danger?"

Another long pause. "I've heard of many disturbing rumors. For the sake of our species let's hope they're not true."

And then he abruptly left, not giving Tia another opening to fire another question through.

She stood still for a while, contemplating his words and the card she received with the flowers...they were Japanese, weren't they? The sender couldn't have been Egyptian, because if she remembered Benjamin's talk on flowers the other day as clearly as she reserved every significant and insignificant memory of him, she'd know that peach blossoms were fragile things. They required great care and attention, and they just cannot grow in a desert. The seed wouldn't bear the heat of the sands, and if it does by some miracle it wouldn't live for a very long time.

And...Why would someone send a flower with that kind of card, anyway? How is the Rome Empire linked to Japan? She wasn't really a fan of history, but she knew for sure that there were no alliances she knows of that involved the two mentioned parties.

"Look out your windows..." she heard Kebi speak softly. Tia turned around and saw that Kebi was standing by the window with the card in her hands. She looked outside and frowned. "...Rome is falling."

"Ugh!" Tia ran her hand through her hair frustratingly. "I just don't get it. It doesn't make any sense, not a single thing is connected to the other!"

"Rome is falling," Kebi repeated quietly, still staring out the window with a deeply-set frown on her features. "Rome is falling..."

Tia had picked up the discarded blossom and held it high in the air, as if she was offering it to the heavens above. "Here we have an evil-warding Japanese flower that only grows in Spring, and over there we have a card that's talking about something that happened a very long time ago. Oh, and by the way, we're not even in Italy. We're in Egypt, that's not even in the same continent as Italy." She waited for Kebi to say something. She raised her brows and her jaw dropped a little when she saw that the older woman wasn't paying attention to her. "Kebi, are you even listening to me?"

"They're not speaking of the ancient world," she said after a while, still not looking away from the window. "They're referring to the third Triumvirate."

Tia approached her slowly. "What are you talking about?"

"Rome's Triumvirate," she replied. "Thee men ruled in a Triumvirate. The first was Caesar, Cassius, and Pompey. The second was Octavian, Antony, and Lepidus. The third came centuries after the fall of the Roman Empire, and the humans are until now unaware of it..."

"It's made of Aro, Marcus, and Caius," Tia finished her sentence. "Of course! The three of them are co-ruling our world, and they're of Roman birth! Why the hell haven't I figured it out before?"

Kebi shook her head. A foreboding look came over her, one that made Tia feel the other woman's terror channeling through her. "I fear, my dear, that something great has disrupted the peaceful life of Volterra."

The little vampire placed her hands comfortingly on Kebi's shoulders. "Let it happen, then." Her tone was too cold. Kebi could not blame her for refusing to recover from her hatred. "What happens in Volterra does not concern us, nor does it affect us. Let Rome burn for the second time if it must. We're safe here."

Kebi didn't say anything. She pressed her full lips into a thin, tight line and kept her thoughts were they belonged: locked securely in her heart, where all of her dreams and wishes lie withering away.

* * *

Demetri stood by the open glass doors. He had a cup filled with fresh human blood in one hand. His clothes were stained with grass and dirt, his hair was ruffled and lightened from the dust that covered it, and the amount of dust in his lashes would've made a mortal's eye water continuously.

He took a deep breath, thinking that he could no longer wait for Marcus to acknowledge him. Be he an experienced ancient or a reckless newborn, Marcus cannot go on like this. He had to drink, and if Demetri will have to personally force his lips apart and the crimson elixir down his throat then he'll just do it without a second thought. Plus, Mae was probably going to try to strangle him when she hears that he had filled one of her cups with blood. Well, the idea sounded better than the other that involved dragging the entire corpse of that middle aged wonderer through her house and into her backyard. She loved Demetri, yes, but not enough to allow him to breach his limits to _that _extent.

He walked out into the cold, assaulting weather. Marcus didn't look up at the sound of his feet stepping over the grass and crushing it with his weight, not until the tracker reached him and kneeled before him. He had looked up slowly, first at the cup and then at his long-time servant.

Demetri surveyed him, momentarily forgetting about the cup in his hand. He looked even worse. Almost like a 'real' vampire, actually. He was a gaunt, decaying heap of skin and bones. The blackness around his eyes with the combination of his black irises looked like two empty holes, his lips were so white Demetri had to squint to detect the lines that separated them from his skin, and he could've sworn that Marcus lost weight since the last time he saw him.

Could vampires even lose _or_ gain weight? He never had to cut down on the blood or go to the gymnasium.

Once more, he was reminded of his earlier conversation with Mae. She had said something about death circling him but not really attacking him. Had she meant that literarily or metaphorically?

"What is it that you want from me?" he asked. The dryness of his voice had caught the tracker off guard, making it too hard for him to conceal the surprise on his face. Marcus lifted his arms in the air, as if he was asking the tracker to engulf him, and Demetri couldn't help but look sympathetic when he saw them shaking slightly. "Look at me now. See it all for yourself, and trust your eyes to clear your judgment. What do I _possibly _have to offer?"

Demetri stayed silent for a while, waiting for the elder to answer that one question he often carelessly dismissed.

Why did they look out for him, anyway? What did they hope to achieve with him, when he's the most wanted? He and Renata could've gone their separate way and left Sulpicia to the mercy of her husband's prowling guards. It's not like they owed her anything, it's not like she's saved them from a fatal situation in her long sedentary life. All they ever remembered of her was her superiority over them and the fact that she was always indulging in whatever her husband showered her with, whether it was gold or silver or diamonds.

It's one of the reasons why he was always cautious of her, even now when she hasn't shown any sign of treachery...yet.

He will always be ready for her. He hadn't let down his guard yet, nor does he plan to anytime soon.

Still, there had to be a reason. Demetri just doesn't track down random vagabonds and seeks their assistance, especially those who are in need of shelter themselves. On the other hand, Marcus is not a random, insignificant vagabond.

When he looked up again he saw that Marcus was still staring at him, penitently waiting for him to answer. He gave him a friendly smile and offered him the tantalizing cup. "Right now I want you to have a drink."

Marcus's eyes moved to the cup. Demetri assumed that he'd snatch it and gobble it down like any vampire in his state, but instead he just stared at it as if he was too full to have another drop, as if he was too sick and tired of drinking the same warm, metallic liquor.

He looked away, shaking his head.

"Look, if it's about what Mae and I-"

"She's right," he cut him off; "I can't help you. I have nothing. No roof to shield me from the light, no walls to protect me, no plan to push me forward, no companion to hold me through the crisis..." He trailed off. A distant look came over his features, and Demetri assumed that he's either thinking about his dead mate or his human life. If he remembers it, that is.

Demetri paused, before placing a comforting hand on Marcus's shoulder, realizing at the same time that he's never been this close to him before, neither did he speak that often with him or addressed him directly. "I'm still here, so is Sulpicia and Renata, and we don't plan on going anywhere anytime soon. We'd like to build that roof and strengthen those walls if you'd let us surround you." Marcus looked up at him with the same tired, worn expression. Demetri's smile returned in time. "I know what it's like to be alone. It opens many doors, but it still isn't a good feeling."

Marcus looked down at his lap with a sigh. Demetri look down as well, and noticed for the first time that a bright pink, healthy peach blossom had landed from Mae's tree on Marcus's open palm, and it has been cradled gently between his frozen, deadly fingers for god knows how long.

"What do I have to offer?" Marcus murmured, mostly to himself, brushing the petal's soft surface with his thumb. "A haunted life that would end with a painful death."

The long-awaited gust of wind arrived, blowing all the flowers away from him and teasing the one in his palm. His fingers twitched, as if he was about to conceal the fragile thing from the wind, but in the end he allowed it to be stolen away. Still, his eyes followed it's pink, floating, twirling form until it disappeared behind Mae's wooden, well decorated fence.

He closed his eyes and released another sighed, leaning his head slightly on the bark. "You and I can't offer each other anything. We're both helpless."

Demetri placed the cup in his empty, open palm. Marcus's fingers held it just as it was about to slip and fall on the grass. "Yes, we _are_ helpless," he said. "But if you choose to stay, and I hope to god that you choose out of your own free will, you'll never _ever _be alone again." He waited for him to open his eyes, so that he could see the clear determination in the young vampire's eyes. "I give you my word on that."

And with that he stood up, turned around, and walked away. He hadn't felt Marcus's eyes following him, but he hoped his promise stayed rooted in his mind, because he'd meant every single word of it.

**Please ignore whatever stupid mistake you might've found in this chapter. I know that being too lazy isn't an excuse, but c'mon! I've written two chapters in three days, THREE DAYS! That get's me off the hook, right? Right? **

***Puppy eyes* **

**Oh fine -_- I'll TRY to be less-lazy next time. **

**Hmmm...thoughts, anyone? **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi :D Very short chapter that's more of a boring filler rather than an actual chapter, yes, but fear not! I'm almost done with the one after it. I just need to actually finish it, you know? No it's not a filler -_- I'm just being lazy. Again. And I'm kind of getting bored of writing...**

**Anyway, we shall discuss all of that when you're done reading :D **

While the vampire world was steadily falling apart, Stefan was amusing himself with an art gallery held by some human artist.

He didn't even like art, nor did he pretend to be the slightest bit interested in any of the colors randomly splashed all over the canvases. He thought the statues looked mildly interesting, but not enough to make him stop and stare. He did socialize with humans, as oddly out of character as Vladimir thought the gesture was, and he elaborated his opinions on such and such paintings as if he's been to every art gallery held in Romania.

Vladimir isn't a fan of art either. As a matter of fact, he hates such things! It reminds him too much of those Italians that robbed him of everything he ever was and ever had. Stefan knows exactly how he feels about anything remotely Italian because he shares the same feeling, and yet Stefan somehow managed to drag him into this tedious event.

Call it immature if you must. Perhaps it is, because how long could they have held on to the shattered pieces of what their world used to be without wincing whenever a sharpened edge pierces their skin? Perhaps letting go is as easier as everyone says, but the Romanians will never know, because neither is willing to give their enemies _that _kind of satisfaction.

What was Stefan trying to achieve, anyway? They had just fed, and there weren't any interesting-looking humans around.

Vladimir shook his head. Stefan had finally lost his mind, he thought. Vladimir doesn't know what's worse, the tragedy of the vengeful ex-leader falling so hard or Vladimir's new mission in life: wasting the many centuries to come in trying to restore Stefan's sanity.

They didn't have time for this. They had an empire to retrieve, damn it!

Speaking of which, said subject no longer interests Stefan. He no longer curses Aro whenever he trips, he doesn't have wild fantasies about rearranging Caius's face in his spare time, nor does he plan on giving Marcus a real reason to grieve. He doesn't even break furniture at the mention of the witch-twins.

He's been doing a lot of..._different _things lately. He's been wearing modern clothes, actually going _in _bars and clubs, charming women, and borrowing History books from the library. What did he need those for, anyway? He can re-write History on his own, and it'd be more accurate than the rest!

He was the one that insisted on them being unsafe. It was he that always looked behind his shoulders, it was he that often scolded Vladimir for speaking too often with soon-to-be victims, and he had always believed that they were secretly watched, that the Volturi are waiting for them to slip so they could strike and call in justice.

And now he was as free as he had been in the time of their reign.

Vladimir might have his moments every once in a while, but Stefan is known to be twice as vengeful as Vladimir could ever be. He just wouldn't let go that easily...

Unless he knew something.

But, assuming that he did know something great, wouldn't Vladimir know it too?

Or...Stefan is already working on something. He's just waiting for some sort of a conformation before he could discuss it with Vladimir.

Vladimir glared at the painting he was 'studying'. Doesn't Stefan trust him enough to tell him everything he knows instead of wasting his time in such a place? He turns away from the painting and finds Stefan talking to an old man. Without sparing the human a glance, he grabs Stefan's arm and drags him away, making the man trail off in his speech and stare after them with a silver eyebrow raised.

Stefan wasn't so bothered by the intrusion. He had actually laughed. "I didn't think you to be the disrespectful type, Vlad. I could've sworn I've had that role nailed."

Vladimir didn't answer him straight away. He dragged him through the halls and out of the building, even as Stefan waved the humans they passed goodbye.

"We are separated in body only, Stefan," he replied coolly. "If you find it necessary to be as savage as that Stoker human envisioned our kind to be, then I will too."

"I find it interesting that _you _of all people should say that," he murmured, smiling a little. "I remember a time when you wanted to have me permanently cut off from your life."

Vladimir froze on the steps. His eyes flickered towards his companion for a brief moment, unconsciously allowing the ebony-haired ancient to see a brief glimpse of shock and uncertainty. He tightened his hold on Stefan's arm and continued to drag him down the stony steps.

He stopped suddenly under a flickering streetlight when they were a good distance away from that horrid building, completely isolated from all that's remotely living.

"What reminds you of such times?" he asks, feigning causality by stuffing his hands into his coat pockets and leaning against the wall. "We have other obligations, if you remember."

Stefan continues to smile sweetly, even when his eyes darkened. "I do not forget betrayal so easily, precisely from those nestled closely in my breast. You shouldn't either." He adds when he sees Vladimir's eyes straying. "It'll weaken you."

Vladimir scoffed. "It already has, brother."

Stefan raised an elegant, black brow. "Are we getting sentimental, Vlad?"

Vladimir grinned. "Me, a bloody poet? Ha, you speak as if I was the one going for a miserably failed attempt at beautifying my words!"

"Do not mistake me, Vlad; I was merely trying to avoid bluntness."

"Pity. I rather like that quality."

"Well then, for your sake I'll work on it."

Vladimir's grin was no longer playful. "Really? Then I suppose that you wouldn't mind telling me what miserable creature caused this sudden change of heart?"

Stefan frowned a little. "What change of heart? I have no heart to begin with."

"Ah, but you do." Vladimir placed both hands on Stefan's shoulders, as if he was a father expressing pride, but the all-too-familiar maddened glint in his filmed eyes told Stefan an entirely different story. "You seem to have forgotten our cause in this miserable life, Stef. From where I'm standing, you seem to be-"

"What?" He cut him off, his laughing eyes widening slightly. "You thought I was softening up to the Italian freak show?"

Vladimir's smile was completely gone by then. "Why waste your time with all this nonsense, then? You've vowed to overthrow the Volturi or die trying, and two thousand years later you're lounging about in art galleries as if our conflict with them was over broken china."

"I'm just passing the time," he replied nonchalantly.

He was about to brush by Vladimir. The blonde allowed him to take a few steps away before grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back into darkness. He couldn't take his ringing, joyous, almost mocking laughter any longer, not when it was directed at him. He lifted his companion off of his feet and slammed him hard against the wall.

"You _will _tell me everything!" He growled in his companion's face.

Stefan just laughed, as if Vladimir's angered face was the funniest thing he's ever seen in his entire life. He only managed to suppress his laughter when he started feeling cracks forming on the wall behind him and on his shoulders where Vladimir's fingers pressed.

He clicked his tongue. "Temper, Vlad."

The wheat-haired vampire pressed his nails harder into the darker vampire's marble flesh. "Very well. Do not forgive me. Loathe me if you must, recoil from me if it'll make you feel better, but never forget that in the end you'll only have me." He released him then and stepped away. "Now you may return to your pets." He walked away then, and for a while he could only hear the clicking of his own boots on the slippery pavement.

Not a moment had passed before he felt his long-time friend's heavy arm falling over his shoulders. "Since when have you been so sensitive, Vlad? I was only pulling your leg."

"You're improvising!" He hissed when he hears humans slowly closing on them. From their grotesque manner and lack of hygiene he assumed them to be thugs. "Now is our time, things are becoming too unsettled in Italy. Aro is losing control over his own coven, and soon enough he'll lose control over his own followers. If there's any good time for us to attack, it's _now_."

A devilish smile graced Stefan's lips. "Ah, so you've heard."

"Of course I've heard! Every vampire in the world knows that Marcus is missing!"

"So I take it that you don't care about your harlot, whom you're endangering by suggesting a direct invasion in Volterra?"

That statement made Vladimir falter in his steps. With too little difficulty and a lot of pride, he managed a smirk. "She matters not to me. Like you said, we must never forget such betrayals."

Stefan's satisfied beam was too evident. "Nevertheless, we are still outnumbered. As for the stories flying about, it appears to me that the others and you know only a portion of the tale."

Vladimir sighed in irritation. He doesn't even remember a time he was ever bored or tired of his and Vladimir's games. "If you don't mind then, do me the honor and elaborate."

"I shall do no such thing!" He grinned when he saw Vladimir's startled face. "Our guest will once he arrives."

Vladimir rolled his eyes. "More surprises. Wonderful."

"Come now, Vlad, making new friends is a wonderful thing. I believe that you're better at it than I am."

"I liked you better when you went into sudden fits of rage," he grumbled under his breath.

"Vlad, I just love to baffle you too much," he laughed loudly and gave Vladimir a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. "It's a sin, really, but it's too tempting to resist." His expression turned grave then, and in that moment Vladimir knew that playtime was over. "Our patience will be rewarded soon enough, brother. We shall rise, and we'll reach higher than we were before."

Finally, Vladimir _actually _smiles. "May I know the identity of our honored guest, then?"

"Of course, my dear Vlad." He releases Vladimir's shoulders when their soon-to-be victims emerge from the shadows with blades and all sorts of weapons in their soiled hands. "I shall tell you everything, right after we take care of these gentlemen."

The streetlight above them stopped flickering. In an instant, they were surrounded by darkness and warm, smelly bodies. Cheerful laughter was heard, and a moment later it was drowned by the sound of bones breaking and men screaming.


	7. Chapter 7

In spite of the tense, critical position she's in, Sulpicia feels light.

Not dizzy light, mind you. Just light. Burden-less perhaps, or in bliss, but definitely _free. _

It's not like she was chained in Volterra. No, she had everything she could ever want in Volterra in endless supplies. It didn't matter that her life lacked in sufficient company, or that she was probably used as a decorating item in a grand image, or that she's rarely- no, that's mockery in its ugliest forms, she's _never _allowed on her own. It didn't matter that she was constantly watched by her husband's wingless vultures, or that he didn't fulfill any of his promises nor did he bother to explain himself. It didn't matter that he had hurt her, over and over and over again, to the point where she forgot how to consider her prey's feelings before inflicting pain upon the human's weak bones.

Then again, she was _such _a good actress that it was just too hard to tell what mattered to her and what didn't.

Nevertheless, she's been as careless as a newborn ever since her great escape. She didn't feel so intimidated, not even the slightest bit afraid of coming out into the light. She was not like the rest; she wasn't going to be scared by her husband's extended claws.

It just felt so good; she couldn't help but loose herself completely. Demetri called her crazy, Marcus could care less, and Renata was still too scared to look her in the eye. Still, none of _that _mattered...until now.

She's been frantic all afternoon. She didn't know why, but she just couldn't stop glancing behind her shoulders or search every room in the house every once in a while. It was a strange feeling, kind of like needles prickling the skin behind her neck. It wasn't painful, it was just plain bothersome. She vaguely remembers such a feeling, but her weak memories wouldn't clear up the picture in her mind. All it could offer was terror that soon followed that feeling, and combined with hatred it had stayed for a very long time.

Demetri and Renata had gone grocery shopping with Mae. She was left alone with Marcus, who was still sulking under that tree. She tried distracting herself by going through the pictures drawn on the human's sliding doors and thin walls, but every time she lets her guard down the feeling multiples.

What is it, anyway? Why can't she identify it?

She decided to see Marcus. Her presence is most likely unwanted, but she's just so desperate for the feeling to go away that she's willing to spend an entire day getting subtle hints from Marcus to leave.

She didn't notice him missing until she opened the sliding doors.

It had taken her by surprise. She got used to seeing his dark shape dropped lifelessly on that spot, almost drowned with the peach-pink blossoms that pooled around him like a pack of curious, innocent little girls examining a demon in an angel's skin.

His scent lingered still, and it's as strong as it's ever been.

She couldn't move. She blinked several times, as if she was waiting him to appear out of thin air. It's not like she was expecting him to pursue them in this risky journey, but she still didn't expect him to escape, not after how much they stressed over coming to him for a peaceful cause. Why would he leave, anyway? He was safe here...

And then her thoughts took a darker route. Marcus hasn't been drinking for weeks. He would've been restrained easily...

She slammed the sliding door shut. Its frame shook with the applied force, and to her luck it stayed in one piece. She turned frantically around, looking with mad eyes for anything alien in her surroundings, and she sniffed for any exotic or mixed scents. She didn't even know what she'd do once her strong senses pick up anything new!

What was she supposed to do anyway, if Marcus's attacker makes an appearance? Where should she hit first? Or is she supposed to use her teeth instead of her hands, or her speed instead of her strength? She had seen Caius train newborns once. He had said something important about flexibility. What exactly _was _it, and how was she supposed to use it? What if her attacker was bigger, older, or stronger, or...or...

She took a deep breath. She didn't know how to start but, one way or another, she was going to fight her way out.

She shut out her silent prayers for it to be nothing more or less than Marcus deserting them. Her prayers were never answered anyway, not when she needed her gods so desperately, so why should she bother _now_?

She inhaled once more. A very strong, very foreign scent of a vampire was detected, and just as she was about to discover its position she felt strong arms coil around her and fling her on the coffee table. The wooden material broke into many pieces and flew across the room, leaving none-bleeding wounds on the old patterns on the walls.

She stood up quickly; the splintered wood on her lap fell noisily on the wooden floor. She didn't even know what a hostile or a threatening posture looked like, but that wasn't the only reason that made her halt. The one fatal mistake she just made was allowing her attacker's intense beauty to baffle her.

Even for a vampire, his beauty was mystifying. She had lived for a very long time, and she came across many beautiful people, but not once did she think that one of them could be as close to perfection as the man that stood before her.

He was majestically tall, and she could see through his robes that he was blessed with a broad chest, a lean stomach, wide set of shoulders and strong, shapely arms. His face looked like it had been sculptured by the gods, and his hair woven by the finest golden threads. She imagined his eyes to mirror the ocean in his human days, and his skin to be affected lightly by the sun's grace, and his smile to be more welcoming and less menacing.

She couldn't help but stare, shocked and wide-eyed, like the many dead women before her. He was just so exceptional that she was afraid of blinking. She was afraid he'd disappear and leave her staring at an empty space.

She doesn't even remember how he got in her life, or why she was standing amidst broken wood.

"I see you've met Narcissus," a voice sneered behind her.

She spun around, making yet another mistake by giving the beautiful man her back. A scrawny woman that was the total opposite of the man stood before her. Her eyes were too wide, her lips too thin and cracked, her sandy hair obviously burnt, and a few of her front teeth were missing.

Sulpicia almost flinched. It was just too hard, especially after marveling at the beautiful man first.

How come the change didn't affect her physical appearance? She was horrible to look at, how on earth was she paired with Narcissus?

_Adonis! _Her mind insisted when she thought of the previous name. He couldn't have been Narcissus, he _must've _been Adonis reincarnated.

"Don't get your hopes too high, he isn't _the _Narcissus," she added, approaching Sulpicia with surprising grace.

She caught the crazed, newborn-glint in their eyes. She knows a lot about newborns. She knows that they're stronger and faster, but they're clumsy and savage at the same time. They relied completely on their strength.

Still, was that beneficial for her?

"Why must you _always _demean me?" Narcissus sighs, his voice thick and smooth like honey. "It's not _my_ fault I was born with infernal good looks, and I can't help but be grateful for it."

The woman rolled her eyes. "That's Narcissus for you," she grumbled, "a great pain in the ass."

"May I remind you that we're on a mission?" he stepped closer. Sulpicia gave her back to the wall. "Come now; let's get this thing over with. Master Aro has promised to make us official Volturi guards if we return Marcus alive." He grinned at Sulpicia. "She must know where he is."

He was suddenly in front of Sulpicia. This time he didn't take her by surprise, she took the time they spent talking in preparing herself for them. When he reached out for her she grabbed both of his wrists and threw him against the sliding glass doors that led to the empty backyard, which shattered the moment his stone-made body came into contact with its fragile surface.

She managed to do the same for the woman, except she got lost in a storage room that happened to be behind the wall Sulpicia threw her against.

She felt exhilarated all of a sudden, but she wasn't fortunate enough to explore this new-found feeling, because as soon as she realized it surging through her veins the same way blood used to thousands of years back she felt something hitting her back with such force it made her fall forward. She growled when she felt its limbs moving.

She managed to face him, and when she did she saw that he was still smirking triumphantly, even when his hair was ruffled.

"You're feistier than you look," he said as he used his weight to keep her pinned on the ground. "It's a shame I'll have to kill you...You and I would look great together."

She stopped struggling. She stared at him for a while, as if she couldn't believe what he just said, and then she glared at him with as much malice as she could muster. "Go to Hell." She whispered before spitting at his sculptured face.

Something close to satisfaction brewed within her when she saw his smirk fading into a scowl.

"You will regret this," he said.

His hold on her wrists kept tightening. It didn't bother her much at first, but then it started to _really _hurt her. She managed to keep her expression the same until she heard her bones cracking. She allowed herself a few painful gasps, and she knew that he wanted to hear her scream for him to stop when his hold continued to get tighter, but she simply _refuses _to give any guard loyal to Aro that kind of satisfaction at seeing her grovel. Hell, she might as well kiss Aro's feet and declare him her Lord!

He opened his mouth, and she thought for a moment that he'd tear her head off, but then she glimpsed pale, spidery fingers snaking their way around Narcissus's head. They kept her eyes open, and they made Narcissus pause. The fingers dug into his skull, and just as he was about to shake them off they twisted his neck to the side with such a violent strength it detached his head from his shoulders.

Sulpicia pushed his body off seconds before it could go limb. She wouldn't dare look at her wrists; she knows that that will only increase the amount of pain she's already suffering from. She scurried back and tried to stand up, keeping her eyes on the slightly shaking body next to the severed head all the while, but when her wrists tried to support her weight they snapped once more. An anguished cry escaped her lips before she sank down on the floor again.

How long has it been since the last time she felt pain? Long enough to forget the feeling, apparently.

"Are you alright?"

She looked up at the sound of Marcus's gentle, lowered voice, and realized that her eyes were still wide and unblinking and that her wrists were still lifted to her chest. She stared helplessly at his passive expression, and she thought she saw genuine concern hidden somewhere, but when she blinked his face was as clear as it has been since the day her sister-in-law perished.

She looked away, shame flooding through her as easily and roughly as the flood that breaks its way into small, defenseless villages. There she was; over two thousand years old, married to one of the strongest and most powerful vampires in the world, and had the privilege of watching many vampires fight for their freedom over the years and _still _she couldn't save herself from a recently changed newborn.

It made her feel so small, the fact that pain had only taught her how to endure. She did not want that, she was so tired of being treated like a weak, pathetic creature. She longed to fight, to tear through skins and bones, to be as animalistic as she could, and to prove them all wrong.

Ah, but that dream seemed too far away, too unreal. They were right, she was the stubborn one. _He _was right to have kept her watched all the time. She couldn't fend for herself, she's just too dependant.

Why _did _she escape? The answer is easy. She knows it in her dead heart; she could no longer spend another minuet in Volterra without loosing her mind completely...still, was this life good for her? Did she make a mistake by following Marcus; did she blindly follow her own death?

She looked back up at Marcus's face. Images of the past flashed before her eyes, pleasant ones that weren't exactly happy or sad. She remembers a smile that made his handsome face glow, and laughter that resonated in empty halls and abandoned gardens. She remembers a flame that used to burn in his eyes, one that used to irritate her to great measures. She often wondered how it went out, when she finds her mind wandering aimlessly into darkened corners.

She'd scold herself later, because such things were not her concern, and she did not care about them. She knew that Marcus tolerated her out of love for Didyme and respect for Aro, and that his mild affection for Athenodora was not mandatory.

And now she sees a flicker of that flame behind his dull irises. It was so dim, almost completely nonexistent, and even with keen senses she had to squint to detect it properly, but it was there nevertheless.

She didn't say anything when he gently took her wounded wrists. He turned them over and examined them closely, and she winced when he poked them a little too hard.

"No great damage is done," she heard him murmur. "It will heal quickly if you keep it still."

She nodded numbly. She allowed him to help her on her feet, keeping one hand on her upper arm and the other on her waist, being very careful with her wrists. Slowly, as if he was teaching her how to take her first steps, he led her towards the closest chair.

Normally she would protest. She would fling her arms about and push him away, stating that she was no child, that she doesn't need his assistance, but after her brief encounter with Narcissus she felt even more helpless than any human possibly could, and in no mood to hear the truth leaving his lips. It was bad enough that she had to know it and accept it the hard way.

And then, all of a sudden, an image of the deformed woman that accompanied Narcissus came back to her. Marcus noticed her alarm, and was instantly looking around himself.

"There's another one." She tried to stand on her feet, but Marcus stopped her just as she was about to apply a bit of pressure on her wrists. "I threw her there." She nodded towards the big hole on the wall facing them.

Just then, the vampire in question emerged, muttering angrily under her breath and kicking away the items that got in the way. She froze, with one foot in the storage and the other out, when she saw Marcus standing and her partner missing a head. Her wide, unblinking eyes flickered between the two figures, and when Marcus rushed towards her with sudden speed she jumped over him and ran headfirst into the unbroken sliding door.

"Stay here," he commanded before sprinting after the woman and disappearing behind the fence. Sulpicia only nodded when he was out of sight.

Minuets passed, and she could no longer her his feet following the woman's.

Sighing, she looked down at her wrists. He was right. They were already healing. She could feel the broken bones mending under her skin and that scorching pain dulling with the process. It was a strange, tingling sensation, and the sight was mesmerizing. She could see things moving under skin, veins rearranging themselves as if they had a mind of their own and coiling around what she assumed to be her mending bones.

She looked away and shuddered when an image of maggots crawling under her skin and through her dead organs crossed her mind.

She examined Narcissus's limb body. His head was close by, though it wasn't facing her. She imagined it to be shocked, or frightened, like all the humans she preyed upon.

She heard hurried footsteps approaching, along with Mae's familiar scent following closely behind.

Demetri appeared first, as per usual always putting himself before everyone else. He pressed his back to the wall and looked around the room like every guard is trained to do. His eyes landed on Narcissus's grey robes and gleaming Volturi crest in his ring finger, and then they traveled slowly to Sulpicia with accusation spreading as quickly as forest fires.

She couldn't speak, because in an instant he had an iron grip around her throat, and she could no longer feel the ground beneath her feet. She automatically brought her nails to his fingers, but she was still unable to pry them open with her wrists still healing.

Little Renata was beside him in an instant, her tiny hands clasped on his arm.

"Demetri, what are you doing?" She tugged at his arm with all her might, but it was in vain. He wasn't even stirred. "Let her go, she's hurt!"

"You led him here!" he hissed, ignoring Renata and referring to the almost-dead Narcissus.

Sulpicia tried to shake her head, but his grip was too hard.

"Where's Marcus?" He asked. "And the others. Are they here, waiting for your signal?"

"Idiot," she managed to choke.

His grip tightened. Sulpicia's feet automatically kicked the air, though her expression remained hard.

"No one's here," Renata tried, still tugging at his arm. "She doesn't know the man. Look at her wrists, he attacked her."

"Ren, stay back," he said without looking away from Sulpicia. "It's been a part of her plan all along. We shouldn't have taken her with us. We were too foolish to believe that Aro wouldn't come up with something as devious and diabolical as _this! _To think that he wouldn't sink so low-"

A hand on his shoulders cut him off. He dropped Sulpicia and spun around, expecting another unknown guard to attack him, but instead of that he found Marcus staring at him with a firm, disapproving expression. He heard Sulpicia gasping for breath behind him, but he kept searching for bite marks or injuries on Marcus.

The ancient narrowed his eyes slightly. He then brushed past the tracker and kneeled by Sulpicia, who was still breathing heavily with a delicate hand placed lightly on her heaving chest. Marcus placed his hand on her shoulder. She automatically looked up.

"Are you alight?" he asked in that same gentle, lowered voice.

She didn't say anything. She looked away and used his shoulders to lift herself off the ground. Renata hesitantly offered to assist her, but the fair-haired ancient refused by shaking her head once.

Marcus looked up at him. He was clearly displeased by what he saw.

It flooded Demetri with guilt. It startled him, because never in his life did he ever imagined himself to feel a tiny smidge of remorse over unintentionally harming Sulpicia. Of course, he didn't really hate her in his previous life, but she did manage to create knuckle-shaped dents in his old room's walls.

He turned to Renata and saw that her expression mirrored Marcus's, only hers was softer.

He tentatively approached Sulpicia. Her expression was passive once more, though she still rubbed her wrists. He could tell that it'll take her a while to forget the course of action he chose to follow. He opened his mouth to apologize, because he was raised well enough to apologize even when he wasn't at fault, but Mae's unnoticed appearance in the room along with her Japanese mutterings had distracted them all.

She was standing by the corpse, staring down at it with concern. "Were there others?" She asked, not really referring to anyone.

Demetri turned to Sulpicia who turned to Marcus.

"I lost her," he said after a while. "She's young and fast. I haven't been very kind to myself lately."

An _I told you so _burned at the tip of the tracker's mouth, but panic seized his heart and made him forcefully swallow it down. He looked at Mae and saw that she understood what was coming their way. She had even forgotten that Marcus was standing _in _her house.

"You must leave," she said in a monotone. "They'll know where you are, even if you did manage to kill the other one."

"Come with us," Renata offered. "You're in danger now. They'll know that you've been hiding us, and they won't be so kind when they see you."

The older woman shook her head. "I cannot, my dear. There are too many children residing in this village, too many good people that don't deserve to die..." She looked up at Demetri with a panicked expression. "Go, I'll take care of the corpse."

Demetri wasn't listening to her, though. They would surely try to send a warning message to Marcus, He realized. They'd burn the entire village down if they'll have to.

"Mae, there's nothing you could do for them." He tried to drive her away from the corpse, but she shook her head and held her ground as firmly as her weak knees would allow her to. "_Please, _I'm not leaving without you!"

"You must!" she insisted, motioning for them to go for the door. "Demetrius, I cannot leave them. I have to try to save them."

"At the expense of your own life? Mae, I will not allow it!" He stood straight before her, not allowing her to take another step forward. "I'll stay behind. I'll explain the situation to them-"

"It won't matter, they won't listen!" She tried to shove him back. "You are wasting your time and endangering your life. Please, leave _now_."

Demetri placed his hands on her upper arms. She stopped hitting him. "I'm not letting you die like this."

She smiled sadly and placed her warm palm on his cheek. "I've known all along, my good friend. I've accepted it a long time ago, when you first came into my life. I knew I'd eventually perish if I allowed you stay, and until now I don't regret making that decision. You've shown me the greatest things in life, Demetrius, and for that I'll always be grateful. I do not fear death. Let it come for me, I'm willing to embrace it in any form, but you will keep it as far away from you as possible." Her smile disappeared then. Her hand fell from his frozen cheek. "If you will not do it for my sake, then you will do it for _hers_."

Demetri looked up at Renata. He stared at beautiful Renata's anxious face and wide, dear-like eyes. He didn't know what she would want him to do, but he knew that he'd do the impossible to keep her alive. He loved Mae, he loved her more than he could love a sister, but if he had to choose between her and Renata his choice will always, _always _be Renata.

He looked down at Mae with a lost, remorseful expression. He had expected her to die someday, but he didn't expect their farewell to be like this. He didn't want it to end like this; he didn't want to be the cause of her death.

She wrapped her thin, weak arms around his neck. "Be careful, my Demetrius." She whispered before letting go.

"Mae, I'm so sorr-" he started.

"It was good to see you again," she cut him off, smiling despite her evident fear. "You've been wonderful, and I can never be more grateful to have been your friend for so long." She then turned to Marcus, and her smile fell. "Well, what are you staring at? Take them out of here, be a leader for goodness' sake!"

Marcus blinked, as if he's been shaken out of a dream, and nodded once. "Come, we must hurry." He said stonily as he led himself out, not once glancing at Mae that stared after him until he disappeared in the hallway.

Sulpicia lingered a moment longer before wordlessly following suit, nodding at Renata to do the same. The little vampire hesitated, throwing Demetri a concerned look.

"Go," he heard Mae whisper.

"Thank you, Mae, for everything." He kissed her cheeks and left, not daring to steal a backward glance at his long-time friend. Renata extended her hand, and on his way out he grabbed it with a drowning man's strength.

**Hi :D Just thought I'd apologize for the sucky kind-of-battle-scene...I'm still working on that O.o Other than that, thank you for reading and reveiwing the previous chapters and adding this story to your favs/alerts :D Really, you guys make me smile like an idiot for hours, and damnit, I love every minuet of it! **


	8. Chapter 8

**I can't believe I wrote this chapter X_X it's too funny for this fic! Well...not entirely funny, just...it'll get serious again, I promise! It's how my OC is, what am I supposed to do D'X **

**Worry not; hopefully the tone of the story isn't entirely ruined! It gets darker towards the end...kind of. **

**Yes, I am a hopeless writer -_-' can't keep the damn tone right... **

**But, on the bright side, it was fun to write :D **

Under the smelly, murky sewers of New York, the sound of a boy's feet pattering on the wet, slick floors echoed.

The vampire smiled. He could feel the boy's excitement pulsing through his veins along with the blood that's been pumping through his body for far too long. He could almost see it radiating off of him in waves, and he could imagine what his sweaty face looked like as he continued to run even when he was starting to run out of breath.

Strange creatures, these human can be. The fear of death is so evident in their hearts, and yet they long for it at the same time. They long for damnation, for a curse that could be so heavy to bear it'd break their back after a century or two.

The Volturi were smart to exploit that desire in them.

He hates that he's following _their _example, but it's admittedly affective. It did ruin the whole classic-rouge-vampire-themed-coven he's been trying to establish for over the past few centuries, but he _had _to get updated on the outside world in order to survive. Plus he liked those gothic teenage boys that were always all-too-eager to be in his service, even though he didn't miss them when their 'contract' expired.

He rose from his coffin just as the boy entered. He doesn't even know why he bothers with the wooden coffins. It's not like he could sleep. He doesn't even know why he bothers with _everything_; the black cape, the custom-made fangs, the fear of the light, the aversion to garlic and anything remotely religious...He knew that none of those things affected him, and deep down he isn't afraid of them.

Ah, but it all feels so real, so _exhilarating _that he just can't help but pretend. Many called him crazy and left. Only his brothers and sister stayed, but none of them would even try his lifestyle for a day, and he knew that if it hadn't been for the blood that tied them together they would've abandoned him on day one.

It didn't matter, he decided. It's the thought that counts. He loved his brothers and his little sister, and he cherished them and this strange union more than anything, even if he often felt like the odd one out.

"...and I know how much you hate it when I talk to other vampires, but this guy just wouldn't piss off! He says that it's important and that if he can't talk to you then I should just deliver this message..."

He looked up suddenly when he realized that the boy's been talking for over ten minuets. He held out his hand, and the boy stopped at the silent command. He stood still, waiting for the vampire to question him, or dismiss him, or perhaps punish him for talking to that foreign vampire.

He leaned forward and surveyed the boy closely for the first time in years.

He was getting taller; he could see that even when his black combat boots added a few extra inches to his natural height. The planes on his face were sharper, more angular, and...Did he always have a goatee? And how did his chest get so broad, his shoulders so wide, and where on Earth did he get that purple bruise-colored mark on his neck? Wasn't he a little too young for such sensual practices?

"How old are you?" he asked, still frowning slightly.

The boy that was no longer a boy blinked. "Nineteen. Going on twenty this October, sir."

The vampire's eyes widened. "Really?" He almost gasped, confusing the boy even more. "When did you get so old?"

He shrugged, slowly getting uncomfortable. "It's not so bad, sir. I'm still young enough, and I'm _still _a human."

There it is! That nagging, awareness tone the vampire hates to hear in his maturing servants. Though why didn't he notice it before? This boy had grown into a man; his time was up years ago.

The vampire smiled. "You've been with us for a very long time."

The human didn't say anything, though he looked like he was ready to leave.

"I suppose you're ready for the change, then?" he quirked an eyebrow, enjoying the kind of effect he had on his servant. "What's the matter, boy? If I remember correctly, you've slain your own friend for this opportunity." The boy flinched at the memory, but quickly recomposed himself. "Now it's knocking on your door, and you're shutting it out...have you changed your mind?"

"No!" He lifted his hand, as if he was about to stop a train from hitting him, and then he blushed lightly and awkwardly placed it behind his neck. "I-I want this," he mumbled, increasing the immortal's amusement. "I want this more than anything. I want to serve the Devil, and spread chaos and destruction among God's children. I know that I'm meant to do this. This is the kind of life for me."

"Is it?" the vampire asked, faking a remorseful expression. It was just too easy to lie to humans, too easy to fabricate the facts and give them what they want to hear: The good old tale of the devil raging war against god and using his vampire offspring to do so.

"Yes," the boy insisted.

"Is it really?" A deep, mocking voice interfered, making the boy spin on his heels and come face to face with his worst nightmare. "I beg to differ."

His master's eldest brother stood, as tall and proud as always, with his strong arms crossed over his chest and his intense, black eyes staring down at the frightened brown ones with hatred. His hair was a shade lighter than his brother's, his skin was as icy in color, but unlike his brother he despises flatterers.

And what he hates more than flatterers are humans.

The younger vampire stood with his thin arms spread, as if he was about to embrace his rigid brother. "Cletus! My dear brother, I haven't seen you in a week. I've missed you."

"You really think you're made for this life?" Cletus said in a low tone, completely ignoring his brother. "You think it's all drugs, sex, and rock 'n roll don't you?" The boy opened his mouth, but he didn't get a chance to respond. "You humans make me sick! Your selfishness is unlimited, and the things you'd do to get to what you can't have continues to baffle me."

His brother fell silent. He slowly lowered his arms.

The human lowered his eyes, most likely thinking of the sacrifices he made for this kind of life.

Cletus scoffed. "Just as I thought." He then grinned suddenly, as if a great idea had just struck his mind. "Or I could be mistaken."

The boy looked up, partly curious and partly frightened by what Cletus was getting at. "Sir?"

"Let's put you to the test, shall we?" He was all smiles, as if he wasn't angered or disgusted by his younger bother's human pet.

He was circling him now. It was the same kind of pattern he often took with his master's victims when they refuse to submit, and now when the table have turned against him he began to feel guilty for what he's done. It didn't feel good to be cornered; to have your fears toyed with.

"I-" he managed to say, before he felt Cletus stopping suddenly behind him.

"Think fast!"

Just as the boy was about to turn around, Cletus placed both of his hands on either side of his head. A loud, snapping sound bounced on the walls and echoed through the dark chambers of the filthy place, followed closely by the thudding sound of a body dropping.

The look on the boy's face was one of pure horror, and to a passerby that would just spare him a glance the boy looked alive due to the still-animated light in his dead eyes. To Cletus and his coven he was dead the moment he walked into their lives.

He stared down at the body for a while. With a growl he spat on it and then stepped over it, unmoved about the sickening snapping sound of the boy's fingers as they were crushed under his feet. "Piece of shit," he muttered under his breath, casting the corpse one final glance.

The younger vampire contemplated shrinking back to the safety of his coffin, but then quickly changed his mind. He knew how much Cletus hated the kind of lifestyle he was leading, and the coffin was new. He didn't want it destroyed beyond recognition like the nice ones he had. He hated it when Cletus came to him in a bad mood, because every time he does something precious of his breaks and if it's not that then he'd just get harshly criticized.

He doesn't mind getting new things for his 'lair'. He just _hates _criticism, especially one coming from Cletus!

He stood in front of his coffin anyway, trying to shield it from his brother's wrath with his scrawny form.

"When will you _fucking _grow up?" he growled after a while, still giving his younger his back. "What more do I have to do to get this message through, Aemilius?"

Aemilius looked down; forgetting his role in his solitary play as the sinister, charismatic creature of darkness and taking that of a child caught stealing from a cookie jar.

"I'm a vampire," he mumbled.

Cletus spun around, making Aemilius flinch from the sudden fury that seemed to fit his face perfectly. "I've had enough of this little game of yours, Aemilius. All of us have."

He looked up suddenly, mild shock and betrayal all too evident in his wide eyes. "You've been talking about me? And you've spent an evening together...without _me_?"

Cletus narrowed his eyes. "And many more similar gatherings will take place, if I see it fit."

Aemilius looked away, wide-eyed still. He backed away until his back hit the wall, and when it did he sunk to the ground and placed his head in his palms. His cape was soiled as it pooled around him on the dirty floor of the sewers. He bought his knees up and placed his elbows on them, uttering a sound that sounded suspiciously close to a pleading whimper.

"You will abandon me?" Cletus heard him moan. "Oh gods, what am I supposed to do?"

A muscle twitched in Cletus's cheek. There he was, the ultimate 'vampire', weeping to the gods that he pretends to recoil from!

In a swift, violent movement he had lifted his brother from his cape and had him dangling in the air, not at all concerned by the sudden chocking sound he omitted and the startled cry that escaped his throat. "You _will _end it, or so help me I will end it myself, and you _won't _love me so much when I do!"

Stubborn and pretty much as immature as always, Aemilius just shakes his head, and kicks harder at the air. "I am a vampire; this is the life I'm supposed to be living! You're all deluded by those bloody Romans!"

Cletus's eyes widened suddenly. A victorious smirk made its way to Aemilius's lips, for he briefly thought that he managed to get through to his older brother, as naively and near-impossible as that sounded even to him, but then a stony fist collided with his jaw, making him reel backwards and crash into the wall with such force that he felt the entire place shuddering.

He rose from the cluster of stone and dust, shaking the dirt off of his dark hair and precious black cape. He looked up to the familiar outraged eyes of Cletus and wished that he had kept those remarks to himself.

The older one approached him. He stepped over the rocks and crushed them the same way he crushed the fingers of Aemilius's human pet. He grabbed his collar and lifted him up until he was standing as straight and still as he possibly could. He brushed the pebbles from his shoulders, still looking as angry as ever, and tore the cape off in the process. There were no traces of guilt, just that of a long-time solider that's familiar with no other passion other than bloodshed and war.

"You've insulted me, Aemilius, by calling those low-life comedians Romans," he said, his voice slightly lowered but still as hard as a diamond's skin. "And most importantly, you've insulted yourself. _You _are a proud Roman, bother. _They _are not."

"I've never even been to Italy," he grumbled under his breath, instantly forgetting about his brother's cruelty.

Cletus couldn't help but allow the corner of his lips to twitch slightly. Still he finds it difficult to pinpoint Aemilius's character. One thing he knows is that the younger vampire loves to act, and is into the dramatics, and is more stubborn and childish than Cletus could tolerate. Still, how could he forget being mistreated so quickly? It's not like he had an attention-span of a kitten, Cletus knows that he's smarter than he'll ever admit; it's just that he's so _different _that Cletus isn't so sure if he should admire that or be annoyed with it.

And then he remembered his earlier conversation with Laurentinus. He released Aemilius's shoulders and stepped back; looking as serious as he planned to before he got consumed with rage when he saw that the human boy was still alive. Aemilius's expression remained blank, even though he knew that when Cletus had that serious expression on something important was lingering in the back of his tongue.

"Speaking of Rome," he began, folding his hands behind his back and straitening his posture as if he was in the presence of his dead generals.

"Did Laurentinus return?" Aemilius cut in, looking partly shocked and partly relieved.

Cletus nodded. "I've spoken to him."

"What did he say? How did his meeting go, and why did he stay there for so long?"

Cletus regarded his brother's enthusiasm carefully. He wasn't really sure if he was to be trusted with such information...nevertheless, he deserves to know, as do the rest of his siblings.

He gestured for the empty wooden chair. Aemilius obediently sat on it.

"Things seem a bit unsettled, he says." Cletus started pacing the room slowly, absentmindedly rubbing his chin with his fingers. "Aro and Caius are always busy, the guards are always in a rush and they're always leaving and staying out for days, and in the three months he waiting to get their attention he never came across or heard of Marcus."

Aemilius didn't seem to understand the threat in his other brother's observations. "Why would he want to see Marcus? I thought that we were supposed to hate him..."

"We are!" Cletus automatically agreed. Jumping slightly from Cletus's sudden outburst, Aemilius nods vigorously. "Forget the peace treaty crap. We may warm up to the albino fiend, to his masochistic laughing brother, and to the circus freaks that follow, but Marcus remains our enemy until the end of time. _Never _forget that!"

Aemilius was silent for a while. "What does he look like anyway?"

Cletus glared at him. "It doesn't matter, because the next time you'll see his face it'll be burned beyond recognition."

Aemilius was suddenly interested. He leaned forward, grinning like a madman. "Oh, are we revolting?"

"No," replied Cletus. Aemilius's face fell. "We're joining forces, if we receive a signal or a message that-"

Something in Aemilius's eyes spark. It cut Cletus short, and just as he was about to enquire the younger, flimsy vampire slipped away towards the rotting, forgotten corpse of the boy. He kneeled and flipped him over so that he was lying on his back, with his expression still horror-struck. Aemilius then removed his black trench coat and started rummaging through the pockets.

"Message, message, message, message..." he muttered as he continued to stuff his hands in every hole he could find."Where the bloody hell is that message?"

Cletus approached him, peaking over his bony shoulders with merely curious intentions.

He beamed when he found the folded piece of paper. Smiling gleefully down at the dead boy, Aemilius dipped his head and placed a tender kiss on the human's forehead. "Thank you, my dear child."

"Give me that!" Cletus snapped, snatching away the folded paper and opening it in haste.

Aemilius ignored Cletus. As a matter of fact, he seemed to have forgotten about the paper, for he put the coat back on the dead boy and brushed the hair from his wet face. "You have been of great service to me, my child. One day, you and I will meet again in Hell, where we shall dance over the flames as eternity continues to stretch before us..."

Cletus rolled his eyes.

The kneeling vampire looked up suddenly, as if he just remembered the letter. "So, who's the letter from?"

Cletus ignored him. He continued to read as a deep frown took its rightful place on his face. Aemilius could see his lips moving but he couldn't hear anything audible leaving them, and when he stood up and tried to peak at the slightly crumbled paper the older vampire folded it and stuffed it in his coat's pocket.

For the first time in years, Aemilius felt that he should be concerned, especially now when Cletus is being surprisingly tolerant and...Distant.

"Cletus?" He said carefully. "Let me see that letter."

"Stay here," he said as he turned around and made his way out, "there's been a change in plans. Call Quintus and tell him to come to you this instant. I'll be back in thirty minuets."

* * *

Mae was sitting on a rocking chair in her backyard when she felt something light and soft landing on her open palm. She didn't need to look down at it or bring it to her nose to know that it's the last peach blossom that fell from her precious tree, the one that grew old with her and stood miraculously strong against all odds throughout the hardships of the years.

Having that tree has been such a comfort to her, especially when her husband died and Demetri wasn't there to hold her. She understood, of course, and she didn't hold it against him, even when he told her that she should. She knew that he had other obligations to attend to, ones that are far more important than her.

The tree somehow took his place. It looked like a guardian to her, shielding her house from all that's evil and keeping it pure and free of all that represents darkness.

And now that it's leaning towards the ground, its branches ashen with the lack of life blooming within, and it's flowers as black as that peculiar vampire's eyes she finds herself shrinking away from her own shadow.

She never realized how hideous her garden looked. It was empty, save for the grass, and now it's even worse with the dead tree still in place.

She cradled the last surviving blossom in both hands. A tear rolled down her cheek.

She had brought death upon herself and her neighbors. She had allowed him to walk in her backyard, stay under her beloved tree, and step into her house...how many houses did he pass? How many children brushed by him, and how many eyes did he meet with his infernal ones?

Her long-time neighbors were one thing. Demetri was another.

"Oh, Demetrius!" She sighed, closing her eyes as the tear rolled down her chin and fell on the blossom cradled tenderly in her hands. "You're a fool, my friend."

**By the way, a peach blossom is believed to have demon-warding powers...or something :P Just thought I'd let you know. **

**Thoughts, anyone? You know, I'm supposed to be working on shitload of stuff, so tell me if I'm wasting my time in this...pretty please? I'll give you candy :D **


	9. Chapter 9

_They know._

_Laura, that disfigured vampire, had shown them everything. _

_She came in weeping. Her clothes were torn, wet, and muddied beyond recognition. She looked even worse than usual, so unbearably hideous that even Caius flinched when he saw her standing by the entrance. Her hair was wet and sticking to her gaunt cheeks and exposed neck. She had her skinny arms wrapped tightly around herself in an almost suffocating king of embrace, the kind that made her look like she was trying to hold herself together. _

_"He killed Narcissus!" _

_Of course, Alice knows Narcissus. She saw him a couple of times before. Beautiful beyond words, and yet so unbearably superficial it almost robbed him of his beauty. _

_Laura wasn't fond of him. She didn't lust for his attention, nor did she crave the sound of his voice or the vibrant sensation of his mere presence in the room. She hated him, actually, more than she hates her own self, for being so damn arrogant and so damn beautiful at the same time, not to mention that he never did resort to vampirism out of fear or pain. He did it because he just wanted to be a vampire. _

_It was like having the cake and then eating it. It wasn't fair. _

_And yet, despite the way he is, he actually managed to grow onto her. He did irritate her to the point where she wished she never chose this life, but no matter how offensive and cruel she gets with him he doesn't even try to exploit her weakness. He never did compare his unnatural beauty to the absence of hers, nor did he laugh when the others did. Though he always reminded her of how lucky she was to be paired up with a creature as 'closely related to the ancient gods'._

_She thought the worst had happened when she was paired up with the buffoon of an angel. She never thought she'd feel this bad when he dies, because really, no one with a heart can kill Narcissus. _

_Even Jane was unable to torture him. _

_But this wasn't a tormented child they were after. This was Marcus, a man with a heart that doesn't beat or hold a spec of emotion, a man with a mind that doesn't grasp the idea of beauty. _

_The remaining ancients were uncaring of Narcissus's death. Aro spared him a second or two, Caius couldn't have been more relieved. Laura was devastated at receiving such a response. _

_Oh no, that's not where the vision ends. It keeps on stretching, even when Alice struggles to leave, because even though she hates looking at that vampire's face or hearing her piercing wails, Alice understands that it's important. For the sake of her family, she had to stay focused. _

_She slips her boney hands into Aro's, and all is relieved. _

_Alice expects glee, or something akin to it marking Aro's smooth face, because surely now he can easily snatch Marcus from whatever hole he's hiding in. But like the many visions she saw in her life, this one leaves her mind blank._

_Aro was confused at first, and then furious. Alice didn't understand, because her gift had it's limits. It'd make her a viewer, one that feels present but really isn't, it wouldn't allow her to see things from the involved characters' point of view. _

_"Summon my wife," he demanded of Corin. _

_"She does not wish to be disturbed, Master." She spoke again just as he was about to lash out on her. "The tower is being renovated. She had retired to your private chambers, and asked to remain undisturbed until the end of the process." _

_Ah, now it all makes sense. _

_She wasn't there, of course. Alice knew, not only because Aro himself haven't seen his wife ever since Marcus escaped, but because she's been seeing flickers of images of empty rooms with scrolls, books, and portraits and busts of Aro and several people that resembled him._

_Nevertheless, he had rushed to his private chambers, followed closely by Caius and Jane and Felix, and he had barged in a manner that Alice thought she'd never live long enough to see coming from Aro of all people. _

_"Sulpicia?" _

_She doesn't know why he bothers. There's no sign of anything remotely able to move and breathe at will that have possibly been in here in the past couple of months besides Aro himself, and perhaps a few of their human cleaners. Not even a faint trace of her scent could be detected._

_Aro was definitely showing too much, Alice thought. For the first time in her life, she saw him look as shocked and taken aback as...well, any normal person could be. It was amusing, and yet so terrifying it made her want to abandon the vision there, because if Aro loses composure in public then something must've went terribly wrong._

_She had to continue...let the vision run it's course, even if it takes precious days of her life._

_Though ungifted, Caius was exceptional. He acts quickly; he doesn't waste time to allowing his mind to adjust to the sudden blow. _

_"Find her," he commands, seeming to turn to Felix on instinct but then quickly switching to Jane. "Any device that can be tracked, if it's owned by Aro find it's location. Go through every bank account he has, anything signed or traded or sold or bought in his name, any recent arrangement he's been a part of." _

_Jane nodded at every instruction given. She left when he turned to Felix. _

_"The guards," he said. "I want you to bring back the names of whoever went missing with or after Marcus, and I want all the guards interrogated individually. Intimidate them if you must, but come back to me at eleven in the evening with answers. I want to know the kind of missions they've all been assigned to in the past three months, and all the significant and insignificant details that follow. Later on go to the humans, and do the same." _

_"Yes, master." _

_Felix was about to leave when Caius stopped him with one last command. _

_"I despise liars, Felix. If you find any, or even suspect of them trying, you will kill them where they stand. Make no exceptions, a liar is preferred dead."_

_Aro didn't try to stop Felix, to give him specific instructions that'll leave his favorites out of that last part, to make them the exceptions despite Caius's plans. He was opening doors and slamming them shut, as if he still couldn't believe it, and every time he slammed a door he just got angrier and..._

_Appalled? _

_She tried to see more of Aro, but Caius was already leaving. She was following him. She didn't want to follow Caius; she didn't want to see the horrific things he does. She wants to stay back with Aro. She wants to know what he's going to do now that his wife went missing. But she has no control over her gift. If it's important to her and her family, it'll take her there. It won't show her what she wants to see._

_Despite the sudden change of events, Caius is calm. Alice thought it strange, and completely out of character, until he reached the throne room and found that Corin had already left Laura alone, still weeping on the ground. _

_"Get up," he said curtly. _

_She did, because like all guards she does not wish to test the violent, rippling waters of Caius's compassion._

_Or lack of._

_He circled her at first, staring at her coolly like a true predator trying to shake the hands of his prey with his claws. _

_"I-I didn't find him," she said, dropping her gaze when he stopped suddenly. "His human acquaintance wasn't there either." _

And it ended there, just as swiftly and randomly as it came.

Alice gasped. It wasn't an unnatural reaction. Alice always holds her breath whenever she's having a vision, even when she tries not to. It doesn't kill her, yes, but it still bothers her.

She doesn't know how long Renesme's been waiting, because when she had the vision she was alone, and she was planning on pondering over it before exposing it to her niece. Though judging from the insistent yet patient brown eyes of the girl, Alice knew that there was no way out for her.

She smiled at Renesme's fingers intertwined with her own. "Thanks honey, I'm better now."

Renesme nodded, but she didn't release her aunt's cold fingers. "You were in there for a very long time."

Alice didn't say anything. Renesme squeezed her hand, as if to remind the vampire that she was still there, but Alice paid her no heed. She just stared at their hands, looking so lost in her own thoughts that she could've fooled anyone into thinking that she was having another vision, but Renesme knows her too well. She knows that she had one of those strange, possibly symbolic, life-changing kind of visions.

Well, she wasn't going to give her enough time to think of a good fake vision to cover up the real stuff.

"What did you see?" she asked softly.

"When did you get in?"

"Just now."

"Oh. That explains it."

"Explains what?"

Alice looked up at Renesme and smiled. "The vision...it was cut off suddenly."

"Sorry." The hybrid's faint blush and sheepish smile made her look less like a vampire and more like a human. Or, rather, more like Bella and less like Edward.

It tore Alice apart to look at it.

"Honey, have you seen your uncle?"

She frowns. "Why, what's wrong?"

"Everything's fine, sweetheart." She bit back the _for now _that was barely hanging on the tip of her tongue, practically on the verge of slipping. "Old friends are visiting, that's all."

The hybrid grabbed Alice's wrist just as she was about to get up from me the bed and leave. Alice tried to gently tug her wrist free, but Renesme wouldn't have it.

She looked helplessly into her niece's now cold, big brown eyes.

"Exactly how _old_ are these friends?" Her voice was void of emotions when she spoke, her angular face blanched and empty. "And most importantly; how _friendly _are they?"

"Renesme-" Alice began.

"Please, Auntie." She was just as scared, though she had yet to know about Alice's vision.

Her mind and heart refused, Renesme just wouldn't understand! She might've inherited her father's exterior looks, but deep down she was nothing like him. She was Bella to the core. She takes everything and handles it emotionally, not once considering the importance of balancing, of keeping everything ordered, of thinking of all the people surrounding you instead of blindly following your heart.

After all, the heart is a blind, deceiving thing. It sucks that Alice had to learn it the hard way.

But how was she supposed to teach it to her niece? There she was, eighteen on the outside, thirty on the inside, and not nearly an adult in Alice's eyes. She was already following into her mother's footsteps, and when Alice told her she was beyond happy and proud of herself.

How was she supposed to make her understand that some of her mother's choices were _wrong, _when her mother is everything Renesme lives for?

Defeated, Alice sighs and runs her fingers through her short black hair. "Ok."

Renesme quirks an eyebrow. "Ok?"

"I will tell you everything."

**Hi ^_^ Just thought I'd stop by and say hello after, I don't know, two or three weeks? Sorry for not replying to reviews and stuff, people! Been extremely busy with life and...Oh, you know the drill :P but I'm free now, so I'll probably write more. This is good, I should be excited, but it's getting pretty late in here and I'm getting sleepier by the minuet, so...**

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, favorite-ing, alerting and so on. I'm getting bored with all this "mystery" crap, so I'm going to start revealing stuff soon ;P (Did I say that right?) but not all at once, because believe it or not, I have this entire story planned out before even beginning on the first chapter. Oh yea, I'm that lifeless :D **


	10. Chapter 10

They reached Brazil just as the sun was beginning to set, and by the time they went through the required procedure of every airport in the world the sun was still there, but she was too weak to expose them. They had no luggage with them- they never did. Everything they've ever owned, the valuable and the worthless, they left it all behind. –The mark of their last encounter with anything remotely inhuman was still plastered on their faces, except for Marcus that seemed unaffected by it.

Instead of ushering them out of the building and in the nearest taxi, Marcus makes them wait in random chairs placed in a corner in the airport. Wait for what, though? Brazil was, after all, a Volturi hotspot. The plan was to avoid it at all costs, and if they'd be forced towards it under certain circumstances they'd sneak into the next plane or boat, whichever is leaving sooner and offered a higher chance of survival.

Renata was a little surprised that Demetri still didn't ask. Or Sulpicia, who really wouldn't let anything as dangerous and risky go by unquestioned. But when she looked at their faces she understood, because she knew that she and Marcus were the fortunate two that dodged the bullets in Japan.

Demetri didn't really look sullen, or even upset. He was just uncharacteristically quiet, and for the first time since they eloped he wasn't touching her. For all she knew, he was probably afraid of thinking of Mae. She was afraid of that too, but most importantly she was afraid of comforting him. She didn't know how, because it's always been her that needed comfort. He was always there, ever since she first laid eyes on him, and until now he didn't need comfort or reassurance.

Nevertheless, she slipped her tiny hand in his lazily crossed arms and leaned her head on his shoulder. She couldn't think of a better way, and at first he didn't react, but then he reassured her by leaning his head against hers.

She watched humans pass by them, sparing them a brief but startled glance, most likely astounded by their unnatural beauty. She didn't bother listening to nearby conversations. She felt too weary for that, and she didn't understand the language anyway.

Her black eyes flickered to Marcus just as he quietly stood up from his chair. She frowned, and followed suit when she felt Demetri's arms moving under her hands. Sulpicia didn't stand, she merely looked at them with one elegant, blond eyebrow raised.

"What's going on?" Demetri asked.

"I've called someone for help," said Marcus. "Just before boarding the plane in Japan."

Renata vaguely recalled a scene with Marcus asking random people for the nearest payphone.

Sulpicia stood just as the scent of a vampire reached them. "Why him?" She demanded. "You know exactly how he feels about the Volturi and upholding the law!"

He ignored her. It only increased her anger and frustration.

"Who are you talking about?" Renata asked, looking up at Demetri instead of the ancients. "I don't recognize the scent."

Demetri didn't answer her. He had a mixed expression of shock, yearning, and something she couldn't really detect.

The figure approached. A tall, handsome man he was. Somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties, with dark hair that touched his collar and the friendliest smile a vampire could ever posses. Though it wasn't the smile that made her gape like a fool, it was the beautiful yet strange shade of gold that glimmered in his irises.

_They live? That's not possible!_

"Eleazar..." Demetri breathed. He smiled slowly, as if he still couldn't believe his eyes, and then he threw his arms around the other vampire's shoulders and laughed.

Eleazar laughed, and patted his back. "I'll admit, I didn't really think you'd miss me that much."

Demetri pulled back, though his hands were still clasped on Eleazar's shoulders and he was still laughing like he's never laughed before. "After meeting not a single friendly face of a vampire, I believe that I have every right to miss you at least a little."

Renata blinked twice, finding it slightly difficult to absorb the scene before her. She slowly turned to Marcus and Sulpicia, wondering why they looked so calm and casual, as if Demetri slipping from misery to joy in a split second during such circumstances was normal.

Eleazar frowned when their eyes met. He raised his brows and smiled then, as if he just recognized an old friend. "I remember you," he said. Demetri turned towards her the same time Eleazar did. "You were younger at the time, and so timid that you wouldn't even try to look at me when I tried to talk to you. I don't remember being present when you were made into a vampire, though."

Demetri grinned at her confused expression. "Ren, this is Eleazar. He was one of the guards for a very long time, but he left some fiver hundred years ago." She shook his hand when he extended it.

There was pride in Demetri's smile when he spoke again. "He's my maker, Ren."

"I'm-I'm honored," she stuttered, shaking Eleazar's hand more vigorously.

"No," he said, "_I _am, for being in the presence of such a powerful and beautiful vampire." She looked down and smiled shyly at his complement, still unable to look a man in they eye when spoken to like that despite her actual age.

Eleazar's eyes landed on Sulpicia. He was taken aback by her presence. Anyone could tell from the sudden, jerking change in his movements and the quivering of his smile and the rise of his dark eyebrows. She narrowed her eyes, clearly offended, and silently dared him to breath but one comment on the oddity of her standing with them.

Un-responding to her challenge, he greeted her with a fixed polite smile and a nod.

"Come then," he said, gladly giving the woman his back and forgetting to greet Marcus. "I reckon that you'd want a place to stay." There was no hatred or regret in his tone, just plain humor.

Demetri grinned and walked beside him, leaving Renata to the mercy of the ancients- Sulpicia, as she tends to be scarier most of the time. Especially now. –as he chattered merrily with his maker, as if he was really visiting the country instead of seeking refuge. They walked a very short distance behind them, each one of the trio seemingly lost in their own world.

* * *

It was already dark by the time they reached the small but modest, open but secluded beach house. For his guests' comfort Eleazar decided to take a round and close all curtains, which took some time even for a vampire. When he returned he found them comfortably seated on the plush, creamy, velvety couches of the living room.

"You have a lovely house," Renata, the elfin one Demetri seemed unnaturally attached to, commented.

"Thank you," he replied, smiling. "It's Tanya's, though Carmen and I come here more often. Believe it or not, it's the only house we _actually _own besides the one in Denali. Drinks, anyone?" he directed the last at whoever's interested as he made his way to the open kitchen.

Demetri scratched the back of his neck. "I'm not really hungry, but I guess I could use a drink." An image of Eleazar's blasphemous golden eyes came back to him. "You know, just in case." He muttered, as if defending himself from an accusation on the tip of Sulpicia's sharp, venomous tongue.

"A bag, then," he called as he took out said palm sized, heavily bloated item from the refrigerator. "Marcus could use two-" A quick glance behind his shoulders "-Or four."

Demetri grinned triumphantly at his former master, who was completely ignoring him. "I'm glad you think so too, Eleazar. I think he'd be on the safe side with five bags, though."

"I assure you that I _can_, indeed, speak for myself," said Marcus in his usual bored fashion, though somehow he seemed annoyed by the gesture.

Eleazar chuckled. "Careful, Demetri. Even I wouldn't dare pester him when he bothers to voice his disapproval."

"Yes, you've told me many times before." He grabbed one of the bags from the offered tray. "Only Caius dares."

Renata politely refused. Marcus took a bag despite the playful teasing of his former guards. Eleazar wished that Sulpicia would take a bag or refuse and get it over with, because he recently realized that despite the many years that kept him apart from the Italian coven, she still made him feel uncomfortable. If he remembers correctly, she made everyone uncomfortable, though now she seemed to get along fine with Demetri and Renata.

He was surprised by the first's behavior towards her. Last time he left them Demetri was adamant on loathing even the words that leave her mouth until his day as an immortal comes to an abrupt end, like the many before him that provoked Aro more than they should.

She gave him a level stare, one he couldn't look away from. She lazily picked one of the bags, slowly brought it near her face and sniffed once. Smiling sweetly (and disturbingly, in his opinion) she placed it back ontop of the mass of dark-red lumps of bagged blood.

"It smells too good to be an animal's, Eleazar." Her tone was polite, but he could clearly see the accusation in her dark eyes.

He placed the tray on the coffee table and sat on the couch facing them, laughing to cover his anxiety as they all turned their questioning eyes on him. "Ah, you noticed."

"You could get caught," Demetri said. "Forget _that_, you could get _killed_. It was extremely reckless of you to come to a public place without covering your eyes, not to mention that you were picking _us _of all vampires! You know that it's-"

"Yes, I know that that lifestyle is forbidden!" He cut him off, sounding defensive at first and then quickly switching back to that calm, serene attitude. "I'm aware that such a deed is punishable by death, should hard evidence be presented or testified by a trusted member of the Volturi. But rest assured that this is the first time I've had an animal's blood ever since that law was presented, and it was really an accident."

"What happened?" asked Demetri. "How do you _accidentally _kill an animal, when we generally aren't attracted to their blood?"

"For old time's sake, I could say?" His smile was sad, faked. "We were visiting an old friend in America. We were out of bagged blood; and with Carlisle gone and very few links in the hospitals outside Alaska such things were very hard to obtain, so we decided to hunt." He rolled his eyes at Demetri's quirked eyebrow. "Alright, so technically speaking, it wasn't really an accident. One grizzly is better than vampires on a frenzy leaving behind an entire State of drained bodies. I didn't think my eyes would turn gold so quickly and stay for such a long time, and I don't think Aro would like to hear-"

"You don't have to clear your name for me," Sulpicia interrupts, leaning casually back into the sofa's soft pillows. "You needn't worry about my dear husband hearing anything from me, for I'm certain that I've already fallen from favor by now."

He was not as calmed as he should've been upon hearing that, but he was no longer anxious. Just confused, and slightly suspicious. He leaned back and ran his fingers through his dark hair, staring pointedly at Marcus.

"I've been hearing rumors," he said. "Quite frankly, I'm not sure which I should believe."

"What did you hear?" asked Demetri as he tore open his bag.

Eleazar didn't look away from Marcus. "One rumor says that you've formed a secret alliance with the Canadian rebels a year ago. I definitely don't believe that, for surely Aro would've known days after said 'alliance', and Caius would've investigated any odd behavior in the coven before letting it go any further."

"We haven't even met the Canadian vampires," said Renata quietly, still unconsciously shying next to Demetri.

"Others say that you've gone mad with age." This he said to Marcus. "I don't believe that either, judging from what I'm seeing today, but there's a definite change in you, my good friend."

Marcus merely shrugged, still toying with the unopened bag in his hand.

Eleazar sighed. "I may have no business in the reasons behind the things you did and things you plan on doing, but I must know one thing." He paused, moving his eyes over all four on them and then stopping on Marcus again. "Whatever it may be that you did that defiled the laws to such an extent that it made _you _as worthy as a low-life criminal; did you do it out of malice or lack of justice in the case?"

Marcus regarded him for a while. His hands stopped playing with the sloshing bag. "Malice," He answered simply, as if he was answering a question on the tides of the ocean. "Malice in its filthiest, most degrading, shameful forms."

Eleazar's eyes widened. He nodded slowly, numbly, before allowing himself to lean back like he was about to relax, but his entire form was rigid. "I see," he whispered.

A good man he was, but a law-abiding citizen all the more.

"I did nothing," Marcus said after a short-lived moment of silence. "I merely left. This is it Eleazar, me leaving that damned place is the law I supposedly defiled."

"Forgive me for asking, but _why_?" He shook his head. "I'm not even sure what I want to know first; why you left or why they wouldn't let you."

"Isn't it obvious, for the second?" Demetri intervened. "He was one of _them_, our leaders, for over two thousand years. He knows a lot- too much if you ask me -and what with all the rumors and facts of these rebels raising everywhere I don't think Aro would let him go this easily in fear of being invited to or taken forcefully into one of those groups." He then looked at Marcus. "Only he can answer the first."

When they turned to him Marcus was still frozen in the same position, with his glazed eyes focused on the thick liquid within the plastic container. Sulpicia was almost as frozen; though she looked lost in her own thoughts rather than whatever Marcus said or had to say next.

"I had no reason to stay," he finally said, still not looking up or moving a muscle that wasn't associated with his lips.

Eleazar wasn't going about to stop like he really should. He knew that he was trudging on thin ice, for he heard even more rumors in his long-time stay with the Italians, but if he was sheltering them he _had _to know at least a portion of the tale.

"We're talking about _two thousand years _of brotherhood, _two thousand years _of ruling as one over an undisturbed realm. You wouldn't have left for _that _Marcus, don't expect me to buy it, and Aro wouldn't have made such a commotion over it. Marcus, I wasn't blind or def in my years of service. I know you as much as I possibly could, and I know for certain that you would _never _leave Volterra unless you really had to." He stopped, giving Marcus a chance to snap at the mention of his beloved Volterra. He resumed when he saw that he wasn't yet pushed over his limit. "Something big must've happened."

His voice was much lower, gentler, when he spoke again after waiting too long for Marcus to answer. "I trust you still, Marcus, as I've trusted you before." He then looked at Demetri, his newborn and once apprentice. "I trust all of you. But I must know if I'm on the right side."

Demetri was quick to protest against Eleazar's doubt, but Marcus's sought after, whispery voice cut through. "He murdered her, Eleazar. His own sister, he murdered her for the sake of keeping me under his thumb."

There was no emotion in his voice, no remorse on his face. It was as it should've been: an announcement of murder, or the bringer of it.

Eleazar stared at him, wide-eyed and wordless. Not so much at Aro's immoral deed, because he knew all too well how psychotic and sadistic he could be, and he really was shocked to know that he'd go _this _far to feed his eternally-hungering greed, but what robbed him of his words was Marcus's relationship to the unmentionable sister of a tyrant.

_Those rumors of your dead mate originally being Aro's sister, they were true? _

He realized that he hadn't really voiced that question, and was glad to have the chance to rephrase it. Much to his dismay, though, his voice did nothing to cover his shock. "His sister...what was she to you?"

The grieve-stricken expression fell on his hard face, and he didn't even try to hide it. As for Eleazar's question, it needed no other answer, but it was met with another question nevertheless. "What is your mate to you, Eleazar?"

Unwillingly, Eleazar's mind traveled five hundred years back, when he had first brought Carmen to Aro to ask for his blessings. He had been clearly disappointed at her rejection to become a permanent member of his ruling coven, but he still gave them a handsome sum of money to begin their lives with. Until this day, Eleazar isn't sure if that was a sudden act of kindness or a bribe.

His mind wasn't reliving that day, though. It was taking a different route, creating images and people and scenes that were never there, events that never occurred and chaos that never spread within him like forest fires. He saw Carmen dead in the real world and very much alive in memory, her arms weightless upon his shoulders and her laugh an echo haunting his mind. He felt phantom hands moving on his skin and saw a dark silhouette of a woman beckoning in the distance, but never nearing or accepting an audience with him.

He resurfaced, and saw that Marcus was now staring at him with an empty expression. He forced the thick lump down his throat and managed to clear his own face of any lingering emotions. "Are you..._sure_? Like you've said before, she was his sister. This is a huge allegation, are you presented with-"

"I knew it a long time ago, Eleazar." He threw the bag ontop of the pile, untouched and cooled now from being in his hands for too long. "Ever since he brought the news to me, I knew it was him."

"Then why didn't leave then? What stopped you from pointing a finger at him, if you wouldn't kill him?" He had just committed high treason by just suggesting the murder of one of the vampire lords, one thing Eleazar would _never _do, but after what he heard he could hardly revise himself before speaking.

"I was the fool that trusted him, that's _why_!" Marcus's voice was louder than a human's should be, practically dripping with hatred. It startled Eleazar and Marcus's own companions, including Sulpicia that saw him as he was before Didyme's assassination. "I wouldn't dare think it; therefore I did not pursue it. My loyalty towards him wouldn't allow it, and until recently I didn't understand why!"

Marcus was past controlling himself, he was glaring daggers and stones at Eleazar. His hand was gripping the hard fabric of the sofa with such strength it was a surprise that he hadn't torn it off yet. Eleazar wanted to know more, he _knew _that there was more to the story, but he also knows that the time wasn't right. He had to wait a while longer, until Marcus is fully calmed and until he hears the others' side of the story. This means that they'll most likely be staying longer...

He glanced at the others. They were all concerned, but for whom exactly? Him or Marcus?

"Forgive me," said Marcus, his voice practically a growl. "The memory's still fresh in my mind."

Eleazar nodded. "Come with me. I'm running short of blood. Tanya's guy has a beach house of his own somewhere here, and he'll mostly likely be there today." He cleared his throat, and that friendly, open expression was back on his face. "And you clearly need a walk."

Marcus's face gradually smoothened at hearing that, but his companions could tell that his mood was still on the dangerous side. Demetri encouraged him by a nod towards Eleazar that has already left his chair and made his slow, almost too human-like walk towards the door, and hoped internally that he'd grab a bag from the tray on his way.

_I'm like a goddamn soccer mom to this guy, _he thought as he glared at Marcus's back. _Glad I can never have kids. _

Marcus didn't get to take a step, for as soon as he did he felt Sulpicia's nails digging into the skin of his wrist just after he saw her hand speedily moving towards him. He hadn't even realized that he almost lifted her off of her place, and she didn't seem to care as long as her other hand gripped the back of the sofa to anchor herself. She seemed more interested in Eleazar. In her hatred to him, most likely, and he briefly wondered if Eleazar truly felt her intense glare burning holes in his back, for surely no creature could walk this calmly without glancing back every once in a while and hurrying out.

He frowned questioningly down at her. She tore her eyes from Eleazar's back, but when they rested on Marcus they were different. Not exactly frightened, but weary. They weren't angry, but they were clearly troubled.

_She was cautioning him. _

He looked back at Eleazar, now waiting for him at the door. Exactly where do his loyalties lie now that he knows the truth? Does he even believe it?

He gave Sulpicia a curt nod, and being careful as to keep their hands covered from Eleazar's line of sight, he tore it from Sulpicia's firm, unyielding grip.

* * *

**Author's Note:**** A month is left of summer, and I've only updated once. I truly feel ashamed, especially now that I don't have another story to work on. You must understand that I've been trying to write ever since the beginning, but I just couldn't. The past couple of weeks have been very hard on me. I had to make more of those last-minuet, life-changing kind of decisions, and this time they were more important than any other decision I've ever made. People expect too many things and a lot of them, I learned, are a bunch of fucks that kept getting in my way and planting all sorts of thorns (my, my! Now wasn't that the corniest thing you've ever heard?) I was also depressed for a while. I just didn't feel like reading or even writing anything, whether its original work or fanfiction. The later I abandoned completely. I marked whatever email I received as read, because I was in such a bad mood that I had no room for a good read and I knew myself well enough not to risk reviewing other stories or replying to the reviews I received. I'm sorry guys, I really appreciate it, but I can be a bitch sometimes. I really didn't want to hurt you. **

**Anyway, updates should be frequent from now on, because everything's FINALLY working out. **

**The next chapter's already in the making. **

**So is the one after it. **

**Also, sorry if this wasn't exactly action-packed or error-free. It's been a while, you know. But I promise, things are gonna get better in the coming chapters. Lots of action, drama, angst (yea, I'm pretty much the same...) **

**NOW DO YOU BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THAT I ADORE YOU? **

***Cries tears of joy* **

**FREE HUGS :D **

***Everyone disappears into the Harry Potter section* **

**Umm...cookies? **


	11. Chapter 11

"You're leaving them." Eleazar didn't bother rephrasing, or trying to make his statement sound like a question. He didn't pretend to know his former masters by heart, nor did he talk about serving under them for so long, but he always felt that he'd _know _when his perfect life would be smeared by past monsters' bloodied hands.

Marcus didn't show any sign of hearing anything but the soft, warm wind blowing his dark hair behind his shoulders. Eleazar couldn't help but notice how magnificent he seemed now, even when despair lingered on the air about him. He couldn't help but picture him in a portrait alone, walking as desolately as he did now, with the moon casting a mirthless kind of light on his skin and making it glow like the sand, but not in a way that shined like the ocean.

He almost believed the tales they spoke of him in Volterra. He almost saw that great man in all the History books Irina indulged herself with.

"It's why you called me, isn't it?" he pressed.

"A lot of darkness dwells in this realm, Eleazar," he said, still looking forward at the inky-black, glistering surface of the ocean. "Deceitful creatures, these vampires can be, even more so than humans. You must always be very cautious of them."

Eleazar frowned. "You do realize that you're trusting a _vampire _to keep your coven safe?"

"I trust you, Eleazar." He looked like he was about to pause, and Eleazar almost stopped walking. "Perhaps even more than I trust myself." He looks at him then, his emotionless, black eyes boring into his golden ones for an instant before pulling back towards the vast ocean. "Perhaps even more than I should."

Silence cuts through. Eleazar is speechless for reasons he doesn't understand. He reckons it's gratitude in some informal, definitely uninvited, twisted form. Or mild astonishment, in a manner that didn't make him as proud as he should be. One thing he's certain of is that he already feels burdened, and in grave danger.

Another thing he's aware of is guilt, weighing too heavily on his chest like a boulder, crushing his ribs for being unable to perform this one last request.

"Do they know?" He asked.

"No."

"Do you plan on telling them, or are you just going to disappear?" He paused. "Demetri would easily find you."

"Not if you tell him to stay. As his maker you're like a god in his eyes, therefore he'll favor you over me no matter how much he claims to be in need of me." He glanced at him again, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You still think I'm at fault."

"Of course not," Eleazar was quick to defend his precious principles. "I uphold the law above everything else only when it deserves it."

"Ah, but you seem skeptic of me, almost untrusting." There was no anger in his voice, or pain for not having the feeling of trust reciprocated. It was almost questioning.

He sighed. "It's Sulpicia."

"I left Volterra alone. She chose to follow me on her own."

"And I assume that they all did as well?"

"Yes, as far as I'm concerned."

Eleazar stopped suddenly. Marcus continued a few steps, looking like he truly was lost with the sounds of the waves hitting the sand just a short distance away, until he felt the emptiness beside him and stopped. He looked behind his shoulders, his expression as dead and empty as it has always been, and yet he still somehow looked like he was beckoning the younger vampire.

"She doesn't trust me," Eleazar said, adamant on standing still. "She trusts no one but you. I'm not a relationship expert, but I'm not a fool either. You know that she will follow no one, listen to no one, or even think about putting her life in the hands of anyone but you."

Still Marcus stared at him; his head tilted slightly, half-lidded lifeless eyes boring intently into Eleazar's. Eleazar couldn't help but notice how they oddly yet conveniently gave away power instead of life. "She has survived for so long without me. It's ridiculous to assume that she won't, or that it will make a difference now."

Eleazar didn't say anything. He wanted to stop him, _shake _him, to tell him that he was a selfish, cruel man. What right did he have now that he was no longer entitled as their ruler, to take away their choices and leave them when they wanted and needed him most? He _owed _them for staying with him up until this point!

But his mind was already made. If Eleazar knew _anything _about Marcus, he'd know that once a decision is made it can never be altered or changed entirely.

Sighing, he strode towards him. They started walking again. They were slower this time, both immortals lost in their own thoughts, neither willing to share.

"I need some time to think this over," said Eleazar when they neared the residence of Tanya's provider. "I would love nothing more than to have Demetri living with me again, and I'd make a room for the women if I have to, but you must understand that I have a family to think about." Marcus nodded at this. "At this critical stage, I don't know if I can protect _myself_ from being accused of treason for just being here with you today, let alone sheltering two of Aro's most trusted guards and long-time wife."

"I will give you time," said Marcus. "Though _you _must understand that I'm running short of time myself. If you're uncertain until the end of this week, I'll take them with me."

The end of this week. That's three days. Still not enough, Eleazar thought, but it's still better than nothing. It's probably too much for Marcus, given his current state and the country he's in.

Eleazar looked forward. "Thank you," he breathed.

He wasn't relieved for long, because as he thought it over another issue came to his mind. He looked back at the ancient, who was still staring emotionlessly at the ocean. As if feeling the younger vampire's eyes prickling the skin of his rock-hard neck with needles, he- seemingly unwilling. –turned away from the ocean and towards Eleazar.

The power of his dull gaze reminded Eleazar of the old days, when he vaguely remembers how powerfully his voice resonated when his eyes darkened with rage. When he could no longer bear it, he looked away, busing his eyes with the strange way his shoes never sunk into the soft, white sand. "Forgive me for asking too much, but why are you leaving them when you know better than I do that the possibilities of the Volturi catching you with them is much lower than them catching you alone?"

Marcus didn't have a problem answering that. "Aro will pardon them if they were caught alone, regardless of their memories with me. Caius- grudgingly, I assume. –wouldn't try to change that decision in order to evade conflict such a fragile and tense point in their reign."

Eleazar couldn't argue. He didn't know Aro at all, despite being so close to him before. He knew what everyone else knew. Aro loved what no one else could have: Powerfully gifted guards and the most beautiful, exteriorly flawless wife. Like rare, priceless jewels. As for Caius, he was the military intelligence, the balanced one of the trio despite his hot temper. He wasn't exactly fair, or merciful, but he was doing a good job at keeping things as balanced as they could be in that Italian fortress, therefore preventing the fall of their empire for so long.

"Where are you going?" He asked. Actually, he only said the first portion of the question, or perhaps the modified version, for what else _could _he say to a lost man?

_Where would you go when you aren't welcomed in Volterra anymore? Where would you go when you've fallen so hard from favor that you aren't really welcomed anywhere? What would you do now, how will you live when you really don't have anything to live for? Will you just run and hide until you're caught and murdered with the same hands that brought this misery upon you from the very beginning? _

No, he could not breathe a word of the previously thought questions.

Even so, Marcus still didn't have an answer to the voiced question.

* * *

Sulpicia watched, keeping her amusement cleverly masked by cold indifference, as Renata fidgeted nervously on the sofa facing her lone couch.

Demetri had gone to take a shower for some reason- it's not like he was a newborn with bloodlust issues! –leaving Renata as vulnerable, exposed and terrified as a little deer shoved into a lioness's cage. Sulpicia couldn't help but play with her psyche a little by keeping her eyes steadily on her large ones, and as void of emotions as a stalking lioness's.

Old habits die hard. Or, in this case, they never die.

The girl looked like she was ready to bolt out of there at the first opportunity given. Sulpicia's aware of how often she upsets the guards to amuse herself, or to simply vent her frustration or anger at some vile thing Aro makes her do or the precious things he makes her give up on those poor, forcefully defenseless guards that wouldn't dare lift a finger on their Mistress. Though, as hard as she tried, she couldn't remember preying on Renata. She couldn't even if she wanted to, for the girl was her husband's shadow.

She almost smirked. She'd bet every piece of jewelry she owns that those guards are drooling at the thought of vengeance once Aro gives them his word.

Her mind wandered to their assailants in Japan- Narcissus, the beautiful vampire that almost had her on her knees, and that disfigured vampire that'll make grown men cry at the sheer repulsiveness of her face. –and thought that whatever those scorned guards have in mind is most likely ten times worse than that of unknown, recently changed newborn. And she'd be completely defenseless against it, given the results of her 'battle' in Japan.

She didn't even realize that she was glaring at the Renata until the girl's eyes went so wide they'd almost fall from their sockets and on her lap. She opened her mouth in an attempt to sooth her that'll obviously backfire and scare the girl into shedding actual tears, because with Sulpicia, soothing or being as closely maternal is as absurd as a fish attempting to live in the Sahara desert. Much to her and Renata's luck, though, Demetri decided to show up with his curling, brown hair still wet and a white towel wrapped around his waist.

He grinned at Renata, until he saw her frightful expression and turned to glare at Sulpicia. He grabbed one of the now-warm bags and sat next to Renata, having that annoying, ready-to-scold expression plastered on his face. "For once, just _once, _can you at least try to be nice?"

Sulpicia sneered. "Can you, for _once_, investigate before making your assumptions?"

"Fair enough." He smiled sheepishly. He seemed to love smiling, Sulpicia noticed. "But I _did _apologize like, oh I don't know, ten times maybe? And that thing in Japan, it really was an honest mistake- Forget I said that!" he quickly adds when he sees her glaring at him. "Ok, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking clearly, I was panicking in a situation that I shouldn't panic at." He rolled his eyes when he saw her smirking arrogantly. "You're enjoying this, aren't you? But you can't _really _blame me on the whole trust issue thing I had with you. You weren't exactly my favorite mistress, given all the crap you made me go through."

To his surprise, she smiled. It wasn't as close to friendly or pregnant with sweetness, but it was a smile nonetheless. "Fair enough."

He paused. "So...are we on good terms now?"

She pretended to think, a tactic she knows he isn't very fond of. "For now, yes we are."

"For now?"

"For if you do that again I will have your genitals severed." She looked so serious all of a sudden, so sure of herself that for a moment he thought he was a mere guard in Volterra and she his mistress. As for the blunt, most likely medieval, almost-sentence..."Don't assume that I can no longer have that done, if I truly wanted to."

He raised both hands in a surrendering motion. "Ok! Lesson learned, ma'am."

She nodded approvingly. She then stood up and walked out of the room, as if she was still in Volterra and could go anywhere she wants without leaving an explanation behind, so long as Aro and his men knew of her whereabouts. Demetri let her go this time, thinking that he wouldn't want to worry about another vital organ that could be severed. He knew that her threat was most likely shallow, but with Sulpicia it was still too..._foreboding_ to take risks.

He wasn't even sure if that word fits.

He turned his attention to Renata, who was beaming up at him.

He quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," she giggled and wrapped her arms around his damp, bare waist. "I'm just glad that there's no more tension between you two."

He snorted. "Don't get your hopes too high, Ren. It'll return."

He pulled her even closer, and pressed a light kiss on the crown of her head. She rested her cheek on his chest. They remained like that for a while as he slowly dried up, she looking at practically nothing and he admiring her like the tragic, lovesick fool Felix warned him of becoming should he get any closer to her.

"Did you know that the Volturi crests were the size of my palm," she asked softly, "back in the day when Eleazar was a guard?"

He frowned at the sudden change of topic. "Really?"

She nodded. "His was a brooch. I don't know where he used to pin it, but I saw it in one of rooms when I was exploring the place. It's rather bulky, but still pretty."

He idly ran his fingers through her hair. "Hmm. I never thought of asking him about how he actually got in and lived his life as a Volturi guard, but I will if you really want to know."

She paused. Demetri was about to repeat himself when he thought that she didn't hear him, but then she shook her head, making him swallow his words just as they were about to fall over from the very tip of his tongue. "I don't think I want to know the details of his experience with the ancients."

He thought he almost felt her shudder at the thought, for he a saw a sudden forlorn expression darkening her features. He frowned thoughtfully, and with his palm he pushed a few curling strands from her pale cheek. He was immediately concerned when she didn't look up at him, or show any sign of acknowledging the gesture.

He moved his hand under her chin and gently lifted her head, so that she was forced to look at him. "What _did _he do to you?"

There was nothing commanding in his tone. It was low, gentle, and clearly concerned. It made Renata want to weep with shame and self-loathing. She removed her arms from his waist, and tried to slide out of his arms but they were too strong.

"It's ok if you're not ready to talk about it," he said. "I just want you to know that I'm here for you. You don't have to be afraid of anything or anyone, because as long as I'm here no one will hurt you."

"Stop," she murmured, and this time he removed his arms when she brought her elbows to her knees and rubbed her temples with the tip of her fingers. "Please, just tell me you hate me."

He was taken aback by the request. "Why would I do that? I don't-"

"I know!" She snapped before she could stop herself, then cleared her throat and managed to recompose her expression. "It's not right. You _should _hate me, I _really _don't deserve-"

"_You _stop there," he cut her off. He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. They felt surprisingly warm, despite his cold skin and the shower he recently took. "Whatever he said, whether he meant it or not, just erases it from your mind. He's a despicable bastard, he was probably just trying to make you feel worse, more powerless and in his control." She closed her eyes when she felt his thumbs rubbing her shoulders in soothing circles. "You're free of him now. He's never going to lay another finger on you again."

She shook her head. "I'm never free, not from him."

He opened his mouth to protest, but Marcus and Eleazar chose to walk in with two, heavy-looking boxes with 'fragile' stamped everywhere. He hesitated, more willing to stay with her and convince her of how wrong that bastard was and how much he adores her, but decided that she wouldn't be so comfortable with Marcus or Eleazar listening.

He looked at Eleazar, who was staring at him with an amused, slightly questioning look, making him realize that he was still clad in nothing but a towel. He smiled sheepishly back at his father-figure, deciding that he'd question him later about that distressed expression he had on his face when he walked in.

Both elder vampires placed the boxes on the counter.

"Demetri, do I want to know?" He asked as he opened the box he had, smirking lightly, casting a quick glance at Renata. "I really hope you didn't break anything. Tanya wouldn't let it slide you know, especially if it was this house."

Demetri laughed. Renata looked even more confused. Demetri ruffled her hair playfully before getting up and securing the towel around his waist. "I was taking a shower. Came here for blood, and got distracted bantering with Sulpicia."

Marcus, who was staring at him with his hands on one of the boxes, resumed unpacking.

Eleazar nodded. His cell phone rang. "Denali," he said as he read the caller ID. "Most likely Tanya checking on the house." He rolled his eyes. "Irina destroys her furniture, and yet she trusts her more." He then walked away, and ran into Sulpicia the moment he answered his call. He was about to apologize but she continued walking as if he never even touched her.

"What do you have against the world?" Demetri blurted, shocked and partly annoyed at Sulpicia's attitude towards Eleazar.

Renata's shoulder shook slightly from constrained giggles.

Sulpicia walked straight towards Marcus, as if Demetri never even breathed a word. Marcus's body froze for a second and then resumed moving between the box and the open door of the fridge as he moved piles of warm bagged blood in.

She stood in front of the box just as he was about to return to it. He looked like he was going to go around her, but she was quick enough to press her back to the counter, crossing her slender arms and raising an eyebrow as a finishing touch.

He just stared blankly down at her, as if expecting her to get too tired of standing and move away.

"What did he want from you?" She asked when she saw that he was never going to speak of his own free will. "What did you talk about?"

He slowly lowered his arms. He would be standing there for a while longer, Sulpicia figured, if she was going to interrogating him. "What made you believe that we talked at all?" His tone was so lifeless it surprised her that his question didn't sound less like a question and more like a statement.

She scoffed. "If he wanted assistance with the blood he would've asked for Demetri's, not yours directly after being almost mauled as a result of your sudden rising temper. Besides, he already had enough bags to feed an entire army of newborns."

"If Eleazar has no intention of sheltering you," he said, "then rest assured that he wouldn't betray you."

"How can you be so sure?" Her posture was tense, frustrated, challenging.

"Romania." He reached behind her shoulders and grabbed a bag. "36 A.D. He was there."

"He was a newborn, what did he know besides lust!"

"You underestimate him." He gave her his back. "You underestimate everything, and if you didn't lack such a gift of knowing one's potential I wouldn't speak like this. It's a bad habit of yours. It almost got you killed."

Her face suddenly changed from that of a determined lieutenant of some sort to a battered woman that just got slapped hard on the face. She _wished _he'd hit her instead of reminding her of her short-lived adventure with the newborn guards in Japan, of her evident weakness in a simple battle with an inexperienced youngling. It's most likely something he resorted to just to get her to stop her interrogation, and she wished more than anything that it didn't work.

Once again, Narcissus's ridiculously beautiful, scornful face crossed her mind.

Marcus didn't turn back until he heard her storming off. He thought he heard her calling him a bastard, but he's not sure.

His eyes flickered to Demetri and Renata. They were watching him with different expression mingled on their faces.

"You should get dressed, Demetri." He didn't want it to sound like a command. It not only reminded him of his time on the throne, but it made him feel even more obligated to stay, and judging from Demetri's smile it seems like he believed that too.

Renata didn't bother with small talk when Demetri left. She was comfortable with Marcus's presence. She didn't mind the silence as long as she could hear the rustle of the fabric of his clothes rubbing against his marble skin as he still moved between the fridge and counter. Eleazar was still on the porch outside with that flat device pressed to his ear, pacing by the window every few seconds. She could hear Demetri searching through Eleazar's closet, most likely looking for designer clothes he's too used to wearing in Volterra to abandon completely.

She couldn't tell anything apart from Marcus's lifeless manner, but he was just as comfortable with her presence. He was savoring every moment of it, because he knew that as soon as Demetri returns and Sulpicia's temper cools the questioning will start all over again. Not about Eleazar, but about the things he had in store for them, like where would he take them from this point onwards?

Unlike Renata, they don't wait for him to talk when he's ready.

He reached the bottom of the box. It was empty.

Perhaps Eleazar was right. He shouldn't leave them without a warning or an explanation. Then again, he didn't make any promises. He doesn't really have to stay.

But _where _would he go then, when they're history and the path before him becomes filled with stretching shadows and distant wails?

"Do you need help with that?"

Renata's timid voice brought him out of his revere. He hadn't even realized that he was staring intently at her with a deep frown creasing his forehead and his palms on the verge of creating dents on the counter. She didn't seem at all startled, just a bit confused.

"Marcus...?" She inquired, a bite more concerned now. She looked like she was about to get up.

He shook his head and removed the empty box from the counter. She got up anyway, and was still too hesitant to approach him, when Eleazar suddenly barged in. His face seemed to blanch despite the natural pallor of a vampire, and the gold in his eyes was going dull with fear.

"Marcus?" He called, not realizing that said vampire was a mere arm's length away.

"What happened?" Marcus asked, with a calmed tone.

Eleazar jumped a little when he heard his voice. He looked at him with frightened eyes, ones that are unbefitting of a former guard's. He brought his hands up, as if he was about to grab the collars of Marcus's shirt, and then allowed them to drop. "They know I'm keeping you," he said, barely above a whisper.

Renata's hands flew to her lips.

"The Volturi, I assume." Still Marcus seemed calm, unaffected by anything as per usual, but if Eleazar and Renata looked closer they'd see his dark eyebrows drawing a bit closer to each other and his fists shaking slightly by his sides.

Eleazar did something that resembled a shaking of the head and a shrug all at once. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more instead of smoothing it. "I...I don't know. I don't recognize the voice. It-he didn't even introduce himself, or the organization he was working with."

Sulpicia and Demetri came together, the first showing a lot more than Aro taught her to show and the second all-too ready to spring into action as he pulled a navy-blue turtleneck on.

"What's going on?" Demetri asked, for once ignoring Renata and going for Eleazar.

"What did they want?" asked Sulpicia, more interested in knowing the next step rather than taking care of Renata's fear or Eleazar's concern.

Eleazar looked at Marcus. "A trade. You for my family." Marcus's frown deepened, finally making an appearance. "Please, Marcus. I heard them screaming. He wouldn't let me talk to Carmen, nor would he get away from all the screaming."

Marcus just looked away. Not in fear, or shame, but in thought.

Eleazar approached him, tried to look into his eyes. "They don't know I'm sheltering you. They don't even know about your phone call. I told them I was here on business, I didn't-"

"That's a very wise decision, Eleazar," said Marcus. "You need not worry about their safety. Aro will not harm them once he sees that they're truly innocent." He looked at Eleazar then, who was still unconvinced. "I'm not sure if I could say the same about you."

"You don't have to worry about yourself," Demetri cut in; always ready to assist his maker. "You can come with us-"

"No, Demetri!" He snapped, getting a shocked expression out of the younger vampire at the appearance of his uncharacteristic, angry side. His face softened a moment later, forcefully pushing his regrets aside for the sake of his coven. "I can't take risks," he said, almost chocking on the words at the image of Demetri being dragged away by those cloaked monsters of the night or his family burned to ash.

"How dare you!" Sulpicia hissed. "Fooling us with promises of a refuge and then selling us out like that as if we were mere cattle!"

Renata sank into the sofa she was sitting on, burying her face in her hands, an old trick she used in her childhood years that somehow made her believe that she could hide herself from the world.

Eleazar covered his eyes with his hand, as if he could feel Sulpicia's venom stinging them.

He hated this. He left the Volturi with a clear conscious, thinking that he'll never have to choose again between those he loves the most. He never thought he'd have to face something like this again.

His new family for his old family...He wasn't very fond of the latter, but the group he was presented with- minus Sulpicia –was probably the closest to that word.

"You don't realize it, do you?" He turned back to Marcus, who was still unaware of the reason behind his distress. "Marcus, from the moment you joined the Volturi and became a leader of our realm your head's been wanted on every plate at every doorstep in every region of the world. In the past thirty years your enemies grew in number, and an opportunity like this is the sudden appearance of a goldmine to them!"

"So," Demetri said, "they're bounty hunters?"

Eleazar shrugged, a little too violently. "I don't know. They could be anything but vampires for all I know."

Something flashed in Marcus's eyes all of a sudden. Eleazar was about to press his case even more when he spoke suddenly, with something akin to anger reverberating in his tone. "There are limits even to bounty hunting," he said.

"You're not going," Sulpicia commanded, momentarily forgetting her lack of power in this circle. "Think, Marcus! This could be a trap, and _he _could be an accomplice."

Marcus ignored her. "Eleazar, you're wrong about one thing. My head's been wanted long before I was changed. It makes no difference to me if the number gets multiplied in time. I was expecting it."

"So you're just going to throw yourself into the fire?" Sulpicia scoffed. "If this was a suicide mission from the beginning-"

"I'm coming with you," Demetri cut in, making Sulpicia look even more exasperated. He glanced back at the only vampire sitting. "Renata go with Sulpicia. We'll meet you when we're done with Alaska."

"Like Hell I'm letting you two go alone!" Sulpicia, all too ready to rebel, declared.

"Jesus woman, can you make up your mind?" grumbled Demetri.

"No one has to come," said Marcus. "I can take care of these bounty hunters on my own."

"Sure," Demetri rolled his eyes. "Just like that guard from Japan that eventually escaped." He was then serious again. "You haven't even had a single bag. You can't fight well in this condition, and we don't even know how many these bounty hunters are."

He suddenly realized that all that talk was making Eleazar even more worried about his coven. He placed a hand on his shoulder, but still his maker wouldn't look at him. "Relax. It's going to be alright. It's just a minor setback, as they say nowadays. No one's going to get hurt." He took his cell phone from his pocket. Still the elder vampire didn't move. "I'll book that flight, then." He murmured before moving away.

Renata, that little vampire Eleazar often forgets about, is suddenly beside him. Gently, she takes his arm and leads him to the open living room facing the kitchen and makes him sit on the sofa. He doesn't look at her face, nor does he think about the blood bag she somehow got and was trying to make him hold it, but he was nonetheless grateful for the gesture. He could almost believe that Demetri's attachment to her was natural. Almost.

The small bag drops from his hands. He thinks of the image he had earlier of Carmen dying before truly becoming his. He covers his face with his hands as the image becomes more and more lifelike.

**Hi :D **

**Another late update. Sorry peeps (I like this word now for some reason XD) I'm no longer a highschooler, even though I still act like one. College, I discovered, is extremely time consuming, even though I just started. Though this year they're supposed go easy on me, so I SHOULD be able to update more often. **

**(No promises! Sorry guys.) **

**Anyway, I bet you could tell how old I am by now :P Oh well, I think it's about time I get over my trust issues. **

**Another thing I discovered is that writing is becoming a little difficult for me. English isn't my native language, but writing used to be pretty easy for me despite all the little errors I kept missing. This must be a sign. I really should write more often -.- **

**Oh, and before I randomly (and very rudely, I might add.) disappear like I usually do: **

**Most of you must've read the Guide by now, or at least have a basic idea of the universe Meyer created. Because I'm way too lazy, and because my reading list is longer than my to-do list, I haven't and I don't think I ever will. But I did read a few stuff on the character's updated bios. Now, I've planned and started writing this story before the Guide came to life. I liked some of the things I read and hated most, so I'm sticking to the facts and rules I've made up for the sake of this story's plot. I'll admit that I borrowed a few things from the Guide, but it's still purely AU starting from the "battle" in Breaking Dawn.**

**Also, some characters are borrowed from History (mostly OCs) and they're slightly bended to fit in this universe and in the story itself, but rest assured that they're not bended to the point of complete and total destruction (I really hope I didn't go that far O.o) and because I'm skeptic like that, only a handful of them are considered among the main characters. **

**Alright, now that that's out of the way... **

**Oh yea, and I really can't reply to anonymous reviews :P Yea, it sucks. But if you have any questions concerning this story, you have my formspring account (link in my profile) and you could PM me, if it's possible (haven't tried doing it myself, but I would be pretty impressed if I did get an anonymous PM O.o) **


	12. Chapter 12

_She was beautiful. Perhaps a bit old for Alice's ideal age in which one should be introduced to immortality, but she was still beautiful in Alice's eyes._

_She was all fine curves and dark curls, eyes black and currently a mixture of fear and rage. Alice only saw one vision of her a very long time ago, before she even met Carlisle. She was crying and she was incredibly lonely, and Alice cried because she too was lonely at the time. She then met Jasper, young and lost and desperate, and thought of that woman no more. _

_She was surprised, to say the least, that the woman is still alive. Before she seemed so lonely that Alice was sure that, at some point, she lost her sanity and got executed by the Volturi. _

_A part of her, a part that may be a lot bigger than she's aware of, is happy that the woman survived. _

_Another part, one that was focused on the vision, was concerned._

_Men, bigger than Emmet and not nearly as gentle, held her struggling body. The upper parts of their faces were masked, revealing not a patch of scarred skin from their noses to their foreheads. Three were with the woman, two holding her still and one that was slightly bigger than the two standing before her, grinning as if he was seeing an old friend for the first time in many years. _

_They were dressed in black with heavy-looking combat boots, coats and hats. She could only think of a clash of men from the mafia and men from the SWAT team. All that was missing were the heavy guns and bullet-belts hanging across their chests. And probably tattoos, according to those violent, noisy movies Renesme loves. _

_They were not human, she could tell. Deep down she knew what they were, but in truth she was still too terrified to come to terms with it._

_The man that stood facing the woman opened his arms. The other two released her, and despite being a vampire she stumbled forward, but stopped herself from falling into his arms. _

_"Antonia," he said. His voice was deep and affectionate enough to make Alice want to blush. _

_She held her breath. She realized that, up until now, she had never known the woman's name or story. _

_Unlike Alice, the woman was not swayed by this masked man. She glared at him, her eyes glinting like his but in loathing, and she spat venom on his mask. _

_His arms were still open, inviting her to embrace him, even as the venom burned the part of the mask it touched. His cheekbone was revealed to be quite high and well-shaped, marred only by scars. That coupled with his curls, alluring smile, and dark eyes..._

_Alice couldn't make out a proper image of what his face is or was, but for some reason she believed that he must've been a very handsome man before he started to have a reason for wearing a mask. _

_"Don't you dare think, for just a _moment_," she whispered, struggling to keep her clawed nails to herself, and pausing to control her breathing, "that I have forgotten." _

_He lowered his arms. He was no longer grinning, but his smile was still present and gentle. "So I take it that you're still blaming me for the atrocities that I have had no hand in or relation to."_

_"You lying bastard!" Her nails were digging too hard into the soft flesh of her palms. Pure white venom, almost as white as her skin, mixed with blood of her recent kill oozed out of the crescent-shaped wounds. "You deny your relation to it...Do you not have the decency to be honest with me, after everything?" _

_"Take it easy," he said, "that was over two thousand years ago. Let it go."_

_"Never!" she hissed. "How dare you suggest such a thing? And after what, those filthy dogs of yours attacked me?" _

_"If I remember correctly," one of the men spoke up, his voice deep but not nearly as seductive as the first man. "You were the one that attacked us first." _

_She ignored him. "Get out. I never want to see you again." _

_Now his smile was completely gone. The frown seemed completely out of place on his face, even with those scars. "The Volturi will be coming for you soon." _

_She froze. All the anger and loathing washed away from her face. "He will not allow them. He will not let them hurt me. He-" she chocked. She looked sad again, her beautiful face twisted with pain as she quickly covered it with her hands. _

_There was uncertainty in her voice. Doubt. _

_"They'll interrogate you." he said. "I'm pretty sure that Aro noticed Sulpicia's absence by now, so you'll most likely get Caius, and even though you hate me, I simply can't leave you in his mercy." _

_He closed the distance between them, but instead of embracing her like he originally wanted to, he placed his hands on her shoulders. They were instantly tense and rigid, expelling all traces of remorse and restoring the hatred and anger that were saved especially for him. _

_"Marcus is no longer one of them," he said. "I'm sure of it now. He came for me in Paris and confirmed it himself." _

_She removed her hands from her face. It was void of emotions. Alice could've sworn that she looked familiar, not in the way that the Cullen's did when she first saw them in person. _

_"He broke free," he continued. "He doesn't know what he's doing, other than dodging bullets. He needs you." _

_"He rejected me," she said in a monotone, stepping away from him and giving him her back. "He threw me out. Just like he did with my mother, but for the wrong reasons. So tell me; why the hell should I help him after that?"_

_She toyed with the ring on her finger as she spoke. _

_The man snorted. "Beats me. To be honest, I'd let him rot."_

_She turned and glared at him. _

_"But," he added, "I know that you'll do it anyway." _

_She narrowed her eyes. "That foolish little girl is no more." _

_"Nah, she's still here." He draped a casual arm over her shoulders. She growled in response. "You love him, Antonia. You'll obviously do it, any idiot could tell. You'll be his reason." _

_Alice saw her jabbing her elbow into his ribs, taking him by surprise and throwing him off balance. She made a run for it. The other two chased her. _

_He straightened himself a moment later, when he was sure that they were a good distance away, and brushed back the few dark curls that tumbled over his face. He picked up his fallen hat from the ground and shook the dust off before putting it back on his head. An amused smile was on his face. _

_"Alice," he said. _

_She gasped at the sound of her name. She's not sure why, but suddenly her hands were covering her lips. _

_"I don't know if you're seeing this, or if I actually managed to let you see it." He brushed the dust off of his black coat then, as if he was talking to an Alice with him in the room. "But before you go, or before my natural defenses take control again, I think it's about time you get to Denali." _

_Natural defenses? Did he actually...? _

_He smiled that lady-killing, charming smile of his. Alice knows that she blushed a little. Or is supposed to, anyway. _

_He winked, and then everything dissolved. The dark old room, the seductive voice of the masked man, the beautiful woman from Alice's past vision..._

* * *

A few days later, Alice is running. Jasper is with her.

Renesme had insisted on coming. She had thrown a tantrum, screaming and demanding to be treated like a reliable person, an adult when she was clearly acting like a child. It took Alice and Jasper a lot of imploring and reasoning to convince her to stay with Esme and wait for their call.

She was late. Incredibly late. It took her too long to decipher the vision, the man and his intentions. She didn't know who he was or why and how he knew her name, or that she was watching him, but she knew that he is an enemy of their kind. Stronger than shape shifters, hundreds of times more ruthless and savage. She should've known from the start, from the deep scars on their bodies to the way Antonia treated them.

But...he knows Marcus. Have known him, rather, for a seemingly long time. And he helped him escape, apparently.

_Why? _

The remaining Cullen's didn't want anything to do with the Volturi, or vampire politics to be precise. The past thirty years have been harsh on them. They did not want a repetition.

So why is she doing this, why is she following this mysterious man's instructions? Why is she so concerned over Marcus, keeping tabs on him as if she cared of they caught him or not?

No. She hates him. _Them_, she hates them _all. _It didn't matter that he suddenly decided that he wanted out; he will always be one of them. She knows from past experiences that once you go into the monsters' den you may never leave. Eleazar's leaving was most likely a miracle, his conversion to vegetarianism made possible by angels in the form of Carmen and the Denali sisters.

Carlisle had once said that Marcus was the voice of reason in that madhouse. He was proven wrong thirty years ago, and so many suffered from his misjudgment of the former leader.

She should be happy, really. They're hunting him down like some low-life criminal. He's getting what he deserved. It's true that she wanted the same thing to happen to the other two as well but...with Marcus gone; their little empire is bound to fall apart. Brutally, she hopes.

She shook her head. She doesn't remember being so cruel, in thought or action or words, even towards those that wronged her.

Ah, but it's different when her loved ones are wronged by the same hands.

"They're close," called Jasper, pulling her out of her revere. "Eleazar...and four others. I'm guessing it's them."

As soon as he said that Alice smelled them. Familiar yet not. Strong, old, powerful...who else could it possible be?

They were running as well.

"Can we catch up to them before they get to the house?" she asked.

"We have Marcus, Eleazar and two former guards. We most likely won't, but..." he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "We might get to Sulpicia in time. I don't know if she was ever exposed to the same things the first four are, but it's our best shot if her life was as rumors claimed. She'd be the slowest, and in a situation like this they wouldn't notice if she suddenly stopped."

She nodded. "Got it. Sulpicia it is."

* * *

"Whoa!"

It's not like Demetri to emit such noises, given that he was almost always paired off with Jane and Felix. It slipped this time and he couldn't hold it back, not only because Marcus's sudden stop in the middle of a full-vampire-speed-running-battle-mode was indeed sudden- so sudden, in fact, that he did not slow his steps. He just stopped abruptly, and did not even stumble. -and it wasn't because he could've ran into the ancient, or because Eleazar continued running on his own, it was because of Renata's body running into his and _making _him fall forward on his face just a few centimeters behind Marcus.

He would've thought it comical, if they weren't heading to their possible demise. On the hands of lowly bounty hunters.

He didn't think he'd die like that. Ever. He would've laughed, or raved angrily on the mere suggestion if he was still a high-ranking guard of the Volturi. Still, he's too embarrassed to think about the news of his death reaching his ex-comrades in Italy.

"Sorry," Renata mumbled, getting up before him.

He looked up at Marcus, expecting something close to disapproval flicker for a second on his usually stoic expression, but instead he saw that his leader was...shocked?

"Hey, what gives?" he asked, pulling himself up.

Marcus didn't answer him. He seemed to be listening to something in the distance, staring off into the path Eleazar took.

Demetri waved his hand in front of Marcus's face. "You stopped. What happened?"

"Do you smell that?" asked Renata. He heard her sniffing the air again. "It's...like nothing I've encountered before."

He turned around to question her, only to stop when he realized that Sulpicia was missing.

"Oh _c'mon!_" he groaned. "You have _got_ to be kidding me!"

Renata gasped, her eyes growing even bigger with realization and concern. "Sulpicia!"

"I swear that woman will be the death of me," he sighed, looking utterly defeated and not as motivated as he was a while ago. "Bet she did it on purpose, just to prove a point or to _really _piss me off or-"

"Go back and find her," said Marcus, cutting off the tracker. He still had his back to them. "I will meet you both at the house."

"You can't handle the bounty hunters alone!" protested Renata, looking like she was about to physically stop him. "And that smell-"

"I assure you, there are no bounty hunters." His voice quivered. Demetri's eyes landed on his clenched fists. He tried to peek at the ancient's face, and he could've sworn he saw an eye twitch. "The Denali coven is safe. Eleazar will be too, if not mildly surprised."

Demetri and Renata exchanged confused glances.

"And Sulpicia?" Asked Renata, frowning at Marcus's back.

"I'll leave her to you," he replied, taking slow human steps forward. "I must take care of this first."

Demetri shook his head. "W-wait! That smell is-"

He suddenly whirled around, making Renata jump a little and stifle a gasp. His eyes, usually half-lidded and are often a reminder of plastic or stone, were blazing. And being black at the moment did not make things any better, for what could be more terrifying and life-threatening than black flames of rage?

This time Marcus was truly angry, or as angry as he could possibly be. Renata assumed that he'd be showing a bit of his emotions now that he was free of the heavy loads that accompany a leader and the constant reminders of his dead mate, but she didn't expect him to go this far in such a short time. The glint in his eyes reminded her of wild animals, or serial killers if a comparison to humans is necessary.

She grabbed Demetri's arm and hid behind his shoulder on instinct.

"If you must know, Demetri," he said slowly, his very calm and collected tone contradicting his expression, "_that smell _is, in fact, the bane of my existence."

And then, without any other word or gesture, he disappeared.

Demetri swallowed. That thing that got Marcus, famous and known only for his indifference, to express an emotion so strong by merely being present is now the subject of his interest.

***Shifts awkwardly* **

**Hi :D it's...been a long time. I'm horrible, I know :( I'm really sorry! I know I do this a lot but I don't get enough time nowadays, and the plot bunnies are abandoning me D: You see, the one thing I've learned from writing is that if you stop for a long time you get so rusty it becomes a lot like a challenge when you try again, and definitely not as fun as it used to be. I had originally wanted to post this on New Years, but when I was proofreading it I realized that it was just...bad, just _bad! _I mean, the grammar and spelling was ok, but the tone of the chapter was too dead (I BLAME THOSE SCIENTIFIC ESSAYS I HAD TO PRACTICE WRITING!) the words didn't flow the way I wanted them to, and some sentences were misplaced and didn't make any sense and GAH! **

**I was too ashamed to read it. It had to be rewritten, but the holidays were over and all of a sudden I'm in uni again :( **

**But with a bit of effort, time, less sleep and loads of swearing I managed to get it done :D I'm still a bit paranoid, but still satisfied with the outcome. All I really needed was to get back on FF, a bit of inspiration from stories outside FF. Net, work on another fic (it should be posted soon!) and a slight change to my style. Don't know if the last happened but...you be the judge ;) **

**As for updates, I really want them to be more frequent. I'll try to get them done on weekends, and hopefully not end up with writing a long ass AN three months from now O.o **

**And thank you so much for reviewing, and being so patient with me! I don't remember if I replied to you all, and I'm sorry if I didn't, but know that I really appreciate it :D you guys make me happy no matter what your opinion is! I don't care if it's illegal or inappropriate in your country but...*beware of the sappiness!*...I love you people ; A ; **


	13. Chapter 13

_I am not a vampire. My memories are fresh, even though they're thousands of years old. I remember each day I've lived as clearly as the day I'm living now. I remember the passing of each second, the comings and goings of my thoughts, and the many eyes that looked into mine. Windows to the soul, they say. _

_It's my curse. _

_I was a boy back then. Very timid with strangers, but lively and vulgar with the people I'm comfortable with. I do not regret being such a burden on them, even though I should. My only regret is that I've only expressed my love to two of the many that were dear, and one of them had already sold her entire being to another man. _

_I was crying. I was in my room. I had ran as soon as I felt tears in the back of my eyes, and I sat on the cold ground in the centre, my hands fisted into the fabric of my tunic and my chest heaving painfully from sobs I would not allow to exist. I rarely cry, for I was told to not make a habit of it, but this time I could not contain myself. It hurts too much to keep it in, and it hurts too much to release it. _

_I was a boy, after all. _

_Oh, but I was not sad! I was angry, mostly at myself. At her. At _him.

_I didn't hear my tutor walking in. I never did, he was too much of an outsider for my kind to detect him. But somehow I felt him watching me, and I wondered briefly of his thoughts regarding my current position. _

_My tears had to be honest and real. Otherwise it wouldn't have hurt so much. _

_There was a shift in the temperature. He was moving towards me. _

_"Pharos don't cry, my boy." Despite his command his voice was soft. _

_I clenched my fists even harder, and before I knew it I was grinding my teeth with the sudden overpowering emotion that took over me. _

_I felt his cold hand on my shoulder. _

_"I hate him," I whispered angrily, my fists now shaking. _

_He knew who I was talking about, but for some reason he asked. "Who, my child?" _

_"Marcus," I growled. I couldn't help it. The mere sound of his name leaving my lips made me even angrier. "I hate him! I hate them _all!"

_He was silent, and if it wasn't for the weight of his hand on my shoulder I would've thought that he had left. He hated him too, I knew that because he was my tutor and I knew him just as much as he knew me. _

_"Why can't she see that he's dangerous?" I demanded to no one in particular. "Why can't she see that he does not belong here, that he's irresponsible and destructive and-and-and-" I looked up at him. His face was stern as always, but his red eyes were tender, understanding. "Why are you not trying to prevent her from making yet another mistake? She always listens to you." _

_The tenderness in his eyes turned to pain. "It's too late, I'm afraid. She's already with child."_

* * *

"I really don't see why _you _of all people should be pissed," he drawled, draped lazily across the couch as if he owned the place. "I could kill you, Marc. Right here, right now. I owe you nothing, I don't have to hold back, and you're all currently defenseless." He grinned at the ancient, whose expression concealed rage with emptiness. "But instead I'm saving your ass. Again."

Marcus didn't blink. "Go back to Paris."

He rolled his eyes. "Yea, I heard you the first ten times. Not happening."

"Caius did not forget. I will not be able to protect you this time."

"I don't need you to do that anymore," he replied, bringing his hat over his eyes as if he was about to fall asleep under the sun. "Like I said, I have my own score to settle."

Marcus sighed. There was simply no reasoning with this man or his family, they were all equally stubborn no matter how old or wise they get.

He leaned against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's been over a thousand years. You were at the peak of your youth and your power was like no other and _still_ you were unable to defeat him. What made you possible think, now that your numbers are still dwindling and he's more powerful than he's ever been before, that you have a slight chance of scarring him?"

"Scarring him?" He scoffed. "Been there, done that. I know he fears me... though I gotta give it to him, the bastard could retort like no other!"

At that, Marcus's eyes darted to the visible scars on his face. He knew, and understood more than anyone claims, that Caius is a killing machine. Nothing stops him, no such thing like fear or rage or even boredom. In fact, elements as powerful as fear seem to fuel his determination; provoke his wild, beastly nature into making an appearance. It worsened over the past thirty years, and only Marcus could relate to the reasons.

Along with his position, Marcus almost lost his own life when he interfered with their battle. It was brutal for both species' standards. The Gods, his luck, the universe or whatever seemed to be on his side that day, given that he's still standing today. He didn't really care about the type of force that saved his life when he jumped in between, what he didn't fully understand was _why _he did what he did when he knew that his place was next to Caius_. _The man was not the boy he once knew and tried to get closer to, he was a monstrous creature that had to be killed in favor of his own kind.

But Marcus did not want to exterminate this man and his kind because of the threat he posed on vampires. His reasons were personal, and he knew for sure that the hatred he felt boiling within that day was infinite, but then the next thing he knew he was fending off an enraged Caius.

"You will be dead by the time he hears that you've been alive all these years," he said at last.

He got up in one fluid motion. He stretched, as if he's been lying stiff for more than a couple of minuets, and discarded his hat on the coffee table, revealing his shaggy dark curls that were currently gelled backwards and the exposed part of his forehead that was, expectantly, scarred. He kept only his mask on, and Marcus was able to see his eyes more clearly now that the shadow had been lifted.

He wished he'd put the hat back on. Every time he looked into his eyes, Marcus was reminded of the little boy he knew no longer lived.

It tears him apart every time, knowing that the boy's demise was a result of his decisions that were taken based on selfish desires, on defending his pride rather than those he claimed to have loved.

The man was grinning, seemingly unaware of the emotions battling each other within Marcus. "You really don't have any faith in me, do you?"

Now it was Marcus's turn to scoff, however it came out wrong combined with his empty expression. "I've always had faith in you, before I even met you."

"Because of my father?"

Marcus wanted to smile. He did, truly, at the memories that came rushing, blurred as they may be. Knowing the bitter end to that tale made him grimace instead. "Is it not a good enough reason?"

* * *

"I don't like this, Eleazar," said Carmen softly, staring at the girls from her place against the counter in the kitchen. They were standing close to Aro's mate, who was listening intently to Alice. The former guards weren't that far off, and although they seemed preoccupied with whatever Jasper was telling them, they were still standing too close to her girls. On top of that there were those _things_- creatures, men, or monsters, whatever they may be! –scattered on the couches and leaning against the walls.

She's only seen the Volturi in action once, and it had cost the lives of so many she knew and cared for. To this day she's thankful that her family survived, and that Irina was spared and allowed to return after five years of service, or 'doing time'. Those five years with the Volturi may have stolen the life she was so used to seeing blooming in Irina's eyes, but it had kept her alive. Prevented her from being executed. It's all that mattered to Carmen.

Eleazar stood next to her, watching them. He didn't say anything for a long time, and until Carmen looked at him he thought he was better off that way.

"I'm not mad at you," she said.

"You should be." He wouldn't look at her. "I shouldn't have brought him here."

"You needed him. You thought we were in danger...to be honest I thought we were as well when those...those..." she shook her head. "Is it true, Eleazar? Are they really...?"

He nodded, his eyes darkening as they landed on the masked men. "I've never met one before, but the Volturi are continuously studying them. There are numerous records and books and paintings of them in their libraries. They are, without a doubt, the Children of the Moon."

One of them suddenly looked up. Carmen's hand automatically flew to her lips, as if it was her that spoke the words instead of Eleazar. Eleazar remained unaffected by the sudden unwanted attention of the werewolf, and instead of bursting into a monstrous form like Carmen expected him to, he grinned at her and tipped his hat.

The rest followed his gaze and did the same. She smiled weakly in return.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Eleazar's face. "They're a peculiar batch, aren't they?"

"Not exactly how I imagined werewolves," she replied.

A short distance away, Alice was set on making Sulpicia recognize the woman from her vision. She was describing her features in more details, trying her best not to exaggerate, but all she got was an equally determined yet confused look on the ancient's face.

"She knew Marcus," she said when her last attempt failed. "I mean, _really_ knewhim. She might've even had strong feelings for him, feelings that he denied reciprocating at some point."

Sulpicia's frown deepened. "The only woman I've known that he was intimate with was his mate, and she's been dead for a very long time. I've heard of a lot of women in his human life, but I know that none of them were turned."

"You must know _something!" _Alice stepped closer, grasping the ancient's wrist. "You've been living around him for, what, thousands of years?"

She was getting desperate. It was too evident for anyone to miss.

"I'd back off if I were you." Demetri warned upon seeing the look on Sulpicia's face.

"Alice." Jasper tried, catching up on the sudden change of the atmosphere surrounding Sulpicia. _Alice, she probably hates to be touched..._

In one angry, swift motion Sulpicia shook Alice's hands off of her wrist. "For your information, _Mary Alice, _I've only know Marcus as a vampire. Meaning, I have no idea whatsoever about his life or affairs before the time he was changed and before he met Aro and Caius. Despite what _this _may look like, we are not even on good terms, therefore _I don't know him!_" Jasper pulled Alice a few steps back, hoping that it'd calm the elder vampire, but it somehow made it worse. "Out of the goodness of my heart, wherever the bloody hell it may be, I've shared what I have. Take it or leave it, it's all you'll ever get."

Alice blinked. "But I-"

"Do not pester me, you miscreant!" she snapped.

"Sulpicia!" hissed Demetri, putting himself in between them as Jasper pulled Alice further back. "God damn it, Sulpicia, can you not verbally attack every vampire you meet?" _Seriously, miscreant? _

"Sorry," Renata whispered when Alice was close enough, too afraid to have Sulpicia's attention on her should she raise her voice.

Alice smiled and reached out, squeezing the tiny vampire's hand. "It's ok," she mouthed. "I was being pushy."

One of the wolves, the one that greeted Carmen earlier, whistled. "Kitty's got claws!"

"The Hell was that for!" Demetri snapped as he caught Sulpicia just as she was about to march towards the bigger creature, her eyes burning with a killer's intent.

"You're not helping at all," said Kate, glaring at the same wolf. "This is serious. If you don't have anything to say, then don't say anything at all."

The mirth left the wolf's visible features. "Did you just tell me to shut up?"

Tanya rolled her eyes. "Oh for the love of- hey, don't start on me!" she grabbed Kate's arm as she strode towards the wolf. She pulled Kate behind her, and was slightly electrocuted in the process.

It was weak, but strong enough to make her twitch.

"Don't," she cut off Kate just as she was about to apologize. "I'm fine."

From the kitchen, still watching them, Carmen sighed. Her eyes landed on Irina, quiet and distant, eyeing everyone with a blank expression.

"This is not good for her," she whispered to Eleazar.

He looked away from the quarreling individuals to Irina. His expression softened. "She's strong. She'll handle it."

"I know, and yet I can't help but worry about her."

"It's ok, I do too."

She looked up at him. This time he met her eyes.

"She's not the only one I worry about." He cupped her face in his hands. He moved his thumb over the skin under her eyes, as if he was wiping away imaginary tears. "As soon as everyone settles, I will get you and the girls out of here." He took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against hers. "Once I'm one hundred percent sure that you're safe, I'll go to Italy."

"What?" She gasped, instantly pulling away. Her face, horror-struck, and the noise she omitted drew a few of the wolves' attention. "Eleazar, no-!"

"Marcus will understand."

"I don't care what Marcus thinks!" She didn't believe him. His voice matched a lion's, but his expression was similar to a prey's. "Aro will kill you the moment he sees Marcus's face in your memories."

"I'd rather try, Carmen." He moved to embrace her, but she took another step back. "Please."

She shook her head. "You don't have the benefits of being a guard anymore. Things are in an uproar in Volterra. They're mad, they'll kill at any given opportunity, and you can't just expect them to-"

"If I don't try, they will eventually get to you and execute you for sheltering Marcus and a group of werewolves." He tried to hug her again. She was cornered against the counter. In a frustrated motion, she slapped his hands away and pushed herself off of the counter, giving him her back. "Carmen, if _anything _happens to you because of me I'll-I'll never forgive myself."

"They'll get to us when they're done with you." She folded her arms over her chest, trying to look normal now that everyone was looking at them. She didn't want the girls to suspect.

He chanced placing his hands on her shoulders. "Not if they don't know where to look. Carmen, I'm sorry, but I don't have a choice."

"Oh, _c'mon!" _

They both look up, startled by the sudden intrusion.

"You too, Eleazar?" the masked man, the one Marcus angrily dragged to a different room a few hours ago, practically asked the entire room. "Damn, you vampires are way too obsessed with the dramatics!"

His followers snickered.

"Don't needlessly sacrifice yourself, Eleazar," said Marcus, coming from behind the towering figure of the masked man. "The Volturi held you in high esteem, even after you left. They will never suspect you of treason."

"Unless if you decide to become an idiot and give them a reason to suspect everyone," added the masked man. "Meaning; sit your ass down and stop being melodramatic. Chicks don't like that anymore."

The look, brief and too quick for unobservant eyes to notice, Marcus gave him could've obliterated him if he had a gift similar to Jane's. "Must you always...?"

His attention was driven away, towards the small crowed that gathered around them. Irina nudged her was through, until two of the werewolves noticed and moved away, causing everyone else to do the same. She stared at him, golden eyes slightly widened and fists clenched tightly, like she was seeing a dead person rising from the grave. Carmen and her sisters started moving towards her, clearly concerned over this sudden change.

His expression did not mirror hers. He wouldn't remember her. Why should he, she was just a prisoner in those five years she stayed with them. She was not left under his care, for Caius was no so merciful, and she only spent as little time as possible with him, and during those times he was reluctant to be in her company.

She promised...she will never forget.

Suddenly, without sparing him a moment to voice his thoughts, she threw her arms around him.

* * *

**The best part about this chapter? Sulpicia overreacting and making everyone want to fight XD **

**Yay for yet another lame, long-ass filler :D! This is sort of my way of apologizing for being weeks behind (yea, I'm not surprised, either.) I know I promised I'd start revealing stuff but...I couldn't help it ; A ; this is too tempting! **

**Right! Next chapter, I will start revealing stuff! I PROMISE! **

**Btw that last scene was inspired by Kyilliki's drabble series, ****Harlequinade**. **But please keep in mind that there WILL NOT be a Marcus/Irina. God, I hope that didn't spoil anything -.- **

**And yes, it is beyond awesome. Go read. Now. If you're free, I mean :P seriously though, go read. And when you're done with Harlequinade, go read her other stories :D **


	14. Chapter 14

Felix was fumbling with the silver lighter in his hand, trying to use it without breaking it with his strength and impatience, because he'd rather look silly in public than break the seventh lighter he bought in the last hour. The possibility of it burning him alive didn't matter. Ashen marks on his fingers proved his experience.

"Finally," he muttered to himself when the element that naturally terminated his own kind danced in front of his eyes. He swiftly brought the cigarette to his lip and the tiny flame towards the other end, shielding it with his free hand from the breeze coming towards them.

His companion stared at him, showing an emotion besides anger and despair for the first time in three decades. Amusement danced in his newly-red eyes, and if Felix's own eyes weren't misleading him, admiration lingered as well. "Doesn't it hurt?" he asked as Felix blew smoke into the air, sighing contently.

"What does?" he drawled, staring ahead at the locals busying themselves with whatever mundane task they had to perform.

The younger vampire raised a brow. He watched his larger companion smoke for a while longer, looking like he was too busy enjoying his cigarette to be annoyed at his lack of response. Then again, Felix wasn't nearly as bad as the rest of those 'high-ranked' guards. He was actually surprised to learn that they had a lot in common, and that they got along great. Felix treated him as a long-time friend, not a newly assigned burden, and in the first few days he tried to shield him from Caius's wrath whenever he could, taking the blows himself until the younger vampire told him to stop.

Her ran his fingers over his cropped hair, forgetting for the hundredth time that dark curls were no longer tickling his strong jaws. "Smoking. Last I heard, fire kills us."

"It's just smoke, kid," he replied, grey clouds coming out in a funny way with every word. "I'm not swallowing fire."

"But our skin is highly flammable. _Anything _could-"

"Yea, but you'll be fine if you do it right." At this point he offered it to him. "Here, try it. If you do it once it won't kill you, I promise."

He examined the now half-consumed piece balanced between the older vampire's index finger and thumb. Hesitantly, he took it and brought it to his own lips. Just as he was about to inhale it the way he remembered from his human days, he felt a searing, painfully burning sensation coursing through what felt like every single layer of tissue that formed his lungs. Without thinking, he threw the damnable thing into a puddle, and distinctly he heard it hissing as it was quickly put out within a second.

He doubled over and coughed violently. Felix remained motionless, even as blood trickled from the newly converted vampire's mouth.

He couldn't stop coughing no matter how hard he tried. He covered his mouth with his own hand in an attempt, only to be driven mad with the scent of his own blood sprayed on his palm nearly taking over his senses. He really thought that he'll throw up at any given moment, and right now he wished for that sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach to act on its threats and drown out the strange and unpleasant feeling of his lungs smoldering.

Soon his coughs were degraded to ragged breaths. His palm was practically soaked with the blood of his recent kill, as was most of the lower part of his face. It trickled all the way to his neck, and from his palm halfway towards his elbow.

Felix sighed and offered him a napkin. Why he had a napkin in the first place was beyond his apprentice, but instead of asking he silently accepted it. The last thing he wanted was having unwanted attention, mostly because Caius disapproved, and while Caius always goes to extreme lengths just to show his disapproval, he would _never_ settle for a verbal method.

Felix snorted. "You're a Cullen alright."

He looked up at the sound of his old name, tongue tied and eyes widened. He then looked away, quickly masking his face with indifference.

"You smoked the human way," he continued. "There's really nothing to be ashamed of. If you were still left the way you were thirty years ago, you would've probably stopped believing that you are, in fact, a vampire." He glanced at his partner, and saw that his fists were clenched tightly behind his back. He smirked. "And who knows, you might've even stopped believing in vampires. Besides, not a lot of vampires can smoke, or enjoy smoking in the first place. I think I'm the only one."

They stayed in silence for a long time, until the younger of the two was calm enough to speak.

"Aren't you supposed to be interrogating more vampires?" he asked, slight aversion leaking into his voice.

"I'm on my break," said Felix. "Besides, I don't have much left. And you're next on the list."

He rolled his eyes. "Bet your master is having an orgasm at the thought of accusing me of treason."

He was startled when Felix slapped him hard in the back of the head. He looked up, about to unleash a string of complaints, when he saw the sudden, uncharacteristic change in Felix's features. His eyes were narrowed; they looked down on him with nothing short of extreme disapproval, as if what he just uttered was a sin.

"He is _your _master as well," he said in a scolding tone. "Its not your place to judge him, or to make assumptions of his intentions."

He swallowed, regaining his composure with difficulty. "Whatever," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "You and I both know why he made me his second personal guard."

"I don't, actually," he said, swiftly switching back to the careless façade he carried earlier. "He must have his reasons, though. He's so picky. Until you came around, I was his only guard for many centuries, and before me there was none."

"His reasons?" He scoffed. "He obviously wants to have me killed."

"He will, if you keep pissing him off."

"C'mon Felix, _everything _about me pisses him off."

He sighed, leaning against the wall. "You're forgetting, Emmet, that everything about _everyone _angers my master."

Emmet frowned, falling silent for a few minuets. "What's his problem, anyway? I know that he's always been nasty, but not to an extent that makes him..." he trailed off as he looked at Felix's face. The carelessness was washed away again, this time replaced by a grimly serious expression.

His gut was telling him to quiet down, that he definitely didn't want to know of Caius's demons. Emmet was very faithful to his gut feeling. Sure, it got him mauled by a bear once, but it also got him to Rose and the Cullen's... And now to these wretched, volatile beings. But it didn't matter. It still hurts so much to think about Rose and his past life with the Cullen's, but his choices are too limited.

It'll end soon, he told himself. He'll just have to put up with it for a while longer.

"You have so much to learn about being Caius's guard, Emmet," he said. "And I can't guarantee that you'll like any of that stuff, because I sure as hell don't."

"Then why the hell are you doing this?" Emmet asked. "That guy is literarily insane. I mean, the other day he was about to _set you on fire _because of something _Aro _said."

"People go mad for reasons." He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I just don't like certain things that come with it."

Emmet shook his head. Felix was once again creating excuses for that silver-haired maniac, and Emmet was on the verge of giving up. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, scowling. "Honestly? You're all fucking crazy."

Felix smiled. "Wanna know how many times I heard that?"

* * *

Alice sat on the steps of the front porch, her arms lightly circling her legs and her chin resting on her knees. She could still hear the voices within the house as loudly as if she was still with them. She had originally left to answer Renesme's phone call, which was really half an hour long. She turned with intentions of going back, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to step into the house.

She's not sure how long she's been out, and the vision of that mysterious woman with the werewolves was still tugging at the corner of her mind. She wanted to march up to that masked being and demand for her answers, and yet she didn't really want to venture back into that atmosphere. The familiarity was too much for her frozen heart to bear, and at a time like this she can't afford to be weak.

A flickering vision of Jasper shook her out of her revere. Seconds later she heard him approaching.

"I'm fine, Jasper." She said quietly, not looking up at him.

How long has it been, since the last time they were alone? It felt like an eternity. He was always so close, but somehow he seemed out of her reach. She can't help but feel a little excited, and perhaps even happy, that he may or may not have been looking for her, that he came out alone because he really was worried about her.

"Do you really expect me to buy that?" he asked, lowering himself on the step above hers.

She snorted. "I should've known better." His gift was unique. She never gave him enough credit for mastering its usage.

She didn't glance back. A part of her was scared. He felt close, close enough to touch if she leaned back a bit. She didn't want to look and be proven wrong, and she did her best to pretend that the heat radiating off of his body did not comfort her, or excite feelings that were long dead between them.

"Renesme is on her way," she said. "I tried to convince her to stay back, but she insisted. She even cried a little when I tried to be stern with her."

"Is she coming alone?" asked Jasper.

Alice shook her head. "Esme would loose an arm before letting Renesme travel alone."

"What about Jacob and the pack?"

"I'm still waiting for their call."

"Then I guess that we have no choice but to take her back ourselves," he concluded.

Alice smiled faintly. "Do you really think she'll let you?"

"I don't care." That persistent, protective ring to his tone that she loved so much was there in an instant. "I'll drag her back kicking and screaming if I have to. It's too dangerous for her to be here."

"She's not going to like you for doing that, you know."

"Let her hate me, loath me even, so long as she's safe and as far away from this place as possible."

"Then I guess she'll hate us both equally," she murmured, slowly closing her eyes. Jasper didn't say anything afterwards, and she took this opportunity to catch up on whatever's going on inside.

Nothing changed. Marcus was quiet. The werewolves were still cracking jokes. Few of them, she assumed the younger ones, tried flirting with Sulpicia and ended up bickering with her instead. She decided to give Demetri and Renata their privacy, and tried to get something from the Denali sisters conferring two floors above. Tanya seemed upset at something Irina suggested, and Kate was trying to get them both to calm down.

To say that Irina shocked everyone with her indicating that she was, in fact, _there _was definitely an understatement. But going as far as hugging Marcus as if they were the best of friends that have been separated for too long was something even Alice couldn't name. Marcus didn't even get the chance to ask anything, for Irina wouldn't stop gushing over how she was happy that he escaped, and how she was certain that 'mother' saw it coming.

Upon mentioning Sasha, Irina was dragged away by her two sisters, and Marcus was left without an explanation. Chaos ensued soon after. Everyone started throwing dozens of questions everywhere, and they all demanded to have their answers laid out before them. Both Eleazar and Carmen had to work to restore the peace, and it was during that time that Renesme called.

However, on her way out, Alice didn't fail to notice that Marcus remained still amidst all that noise. She wondered briefly if its because he already knew the answer to his question...

"What else is upsetting you?"

Jasper's voice tore through her musings, and she couldn't help but jump a little. Acting on instinct, she turned around to look at him. She quickly regretted it, seeing that he truly wasn't as close as she thought he was. The mere sight pained her, but she didn't look away from his golden eyes. She wouldn't pass it up, because she most likely wont get a chance like that again.

_This is so unfair, _she thought. She wanted to believe that he may be as worried as he sounds, but she knew that by trying she might be subjecting herself to torment.

"It's only been thirty years," she answered.

He nodded, glancing over his shoulder to look at the house looming behind them. "Feels like déjà vu, doesn't it?"

Nostalgia was like poison in the air. Not too long ago, there was a gathering very similar to this in their old house in Forks...

**Long time, eh? What can I say, exams are time-consuming. This is probably THE worst filler, and I'm really sorry for coming back with...well, nothing revealed. I'm dragging this, aren't I? **

**Got it, no more fillers! Now I have all summer for myself, so updates should be more frequent :D I will gradually reveal things, starting with Irina (for obvious reasons :P) in the next chapter, and a glimpse of Renata's reasons for rebellion. Until then, let me know what you think! **

**PS(Sorry if I seemed a little rusty...Haven't been writing much lately O.o I'll work on it, I promise!) **


	15. Chapter 15

**[insert heartfelt apology here] **

**I know, I suck -.- it's been quite busy lately. That, and I've been working on my other stories…but I'm here now, and with an update! Thank you so much for waiting for THE worst updater in the world, and I really hope you enjoy this not-so-filler-y chapter :D if not…I apologize for failing you in advance ; A ;**

* * *

Kate kept a distance between herself and her sisters. They were bickering again rather loudly, and Kate simply hates tense, electrocuted atmospheres. She would usually leave for her own sake, but right now that option is out of the question. They needed her to be with them.

The sight made her want to weep, but she wasn't sure if the tears she would not shed would be those of joy or sorrow.

Irina's been eerily quiet since her release from Italy some thirty years ago. The family had been overjoyed to have her back, but she didn't seem to return the sentiment, or even show distaste. She was so still, so empty that for a long time Kate believed her to be truly dead, and that the Volturi have sent them an empty shell as punishment for their defiance.

Irina pretty much floated through the events that occurred in the following years, never once participating. She shrunk in corners and shied away from invitations. She wasn't even observing to begin with, she just showed up because she was told to. She took whatever they gave her, not once rebelling. It frightened Tanya most, and long before the Cullen's had called for their assistance she had been the one begging for a deity to break Irina's feisty, rebellious spirit.

And then, years later, Marcus shows up at their doorstep. He is stripped of his title and he is hunted down by his own kin like a deer with a broken leg trying to outrun a pack of wolves, and for some reason that snaps Irina out of it. She's back to the way she was before she met Laurent, before all the mess with Edward Cullen and his human lover began.

It was like the life the Volturi have stolen from Irina was kept with Marcus, and now that he has escaped he gave it back to her.

"I don't see why you of all people should fail to understand," said Tanya, crossing her arms. "You've served them- unwillingly, I might add. –for five years, and it would've been more if it wasn't for Eleazar's constant pleas." Guilt flickered briefly across Irina's face. She stubbornly pushed it away. "You owe that man your life, and you owe Marcus absolutely nothing. As for the consequences of treason, you ought to know them better than anyone else under this roof."

"Why is it so hard for you to actually _listen_ to me?" Snapped Irina. "Would it really kill you if you _pretend _to try?"

Tanya's eyes widened. "How could you say that? I've always listened to you. You are the one that wouldn't listen to _me_. You never did, and apparently you never will. My advice means nothing to you, whether it's for your own good or not, and it always is."

"You're missing the point here! Marcus is-"

"Marcus is _trouble._" Tanya interrupted."He's an outlaw. A vagabond. He's currently the most wanted, and the Volturi will stop at nothing to catch him. Anyone associated with him is considered a traitor, and treated as such, and unless we report it, his presence alone combined with our awareness of the situation pretty much spells treason."

"Tanya, he _needs _to know. It's time."

Tanya's entire expression hardened. It worried Kate, because she knew how sensitive the subject of their beloved mother was to their eldest sister, let alone her past associations with Marcus and the Volturi.

Kate sighed, getting the attention of both sisters. "Let's just stay out of this. We can send Marcus and the werewolves away, and give them whatever they want or need."

"But mother wanted him to know this!" Irina started to protest.

"It's like you've never known her." Kate spoke softly, smiling sadly. "Mother was fearless. If she had wanted him to know something, she would've thrown it straight at his face, regardless of the consequences. As of yet, we have done everything she told us to do. I don't think it'll make a difference if we leave this one tiny bit out, and to be honest, I believe that we should. Mother does not live, and what Marcus doesn't know won't hurt him, but it might hurt us."

Tanya nodded slowly in agreement. "For all we know, it could've been fear clouding her mind. Fear for us, for herself, and for the little child she made into a vampire."

"I cannot believe this!" Irina felt like she might go mad with frustration. "This cannot possibly come from you, Tanya. Mother was _never _delusional-"

"But she feared." Tanya eyed her rather sharply, with a slight hint of hostility that took even Kate by surprise. "She feared greatly, because she knew that she committed a crime worthy of death, one that will condemn us along the way. And," she paused, taking a deep breath, as if to steady herself. "And she would've told me as well, if the matter is of that importance. And Kate, she would've told her too."

For the first time in the past few hours, Irina's expression softened, conveyed sympathy. It's true that she didn't know why Sasha chose not to tell any one else, but she knew very well how attached Tanya was to her hip, how she was clinging to Sasha's hand like a little toddler, and gazing at her with an admiration worthy of the most devote worshipper. Sasha had always treated her as her 'heiress', so to speak, as the next head of their little coven. It must've wounded her, knowing that Sasha withheld a matter of such great importance.

She swallowed her sympathy. She'd shower her sister with it later. "Nevertheless, he deserves to know. Mother went through so much to protect it from Aro's hands, and until a few decades ago I didn't know what she had meant when she told me to give it to him."

"But now you do," said Kate. "Irina, do you even realize the danger you're in? If Aro learns of Marcus's current whereabouts, he'll do whatever it takes to get here as fast as possible and scan every mind available, yours in specific." She sighed. "Please don't give me that look. I'm not taking sides- I never do. –I'm just trying to protect you."

"I did what I had to do," said Irina, rather irritably. "I'd love it very much if you two stopped treating me like a child."

"No, sister dearest," said Tanya, her words cold and sharp. "You didn't have to do that. We agreed not to, and we made sure that Carmen and Eleazar followed suit. You did it because you _wanted _to."

"Tanya!" Kate scolded her, before turning back to Irina. "Honey, what Tanya's trying to say is that you should've never read mother's journals. We agreed not to after her execution. Her only wish was for us to survive for as long as we possibly could, and in order to do so we have to stay in the dark regarding her past affiliations. She told us everything we needed to know about her past and the things she kept she did with a reason."

"She had no choice!" Irina looked frantically between her sisters, helpless against their resistance yet determined to break it. "It was either his life or ours, and she chose _us_ despite everything. She betrayed him-"

"Enough!" Tanya held her hands up, no longer putting an effort on self-control. "I don't want to hear anymore of this nonsense."

"But he's living a _lie! _His entire immortal life is composed of a web of lies! He's exactly where Aro wants him, where mother feared he'd end up, and if we wanted to liberate him we have to change that."

They stood in silence. Kate bowed her head, while Tanya averted her eyes. For a moment Irina believed that they may have relented.

"He's been like that for thousands of years, and he seemed perfectly fine with it." Tanya looked at her then, as if she had a mind-reading gift that caught the last thought. "We did not throw him for the spiders to devour, therefore it's not our responsibility to liberate him."

"How could you say that?!" Irina gasped. "Mother's soul is restless. She feels as equally responsible as Aro for allowing it to go on for so long."

"Don't be ridiculous, Irina. Vampires are soulless."

"Oh, and you believe that because your beloved Edward Cullen did?"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?!"

"It has to do with _everything! _You're so obsessed with that guy! Now that you're sure that he may never be yours, that you may never honor his memory as his _mate_, you're trying to _be_ him and it's so fucking nauseating!"

Kate sighed and turned away from them. She knew _that _argument well enough to recite it herself. It will probably get violent in a while, when Irina takes it a step further and induces Tanya into mentioning Laurent. Eleazar, hearing the commotion, will most likely rush upstairs and put a stop to it, with Carmen a safe distance away- that's next to Kate, as always. –pleading for them to stop.

She thought of leaving the room. She _really _hates it when they fight. She decided to go down and invite Carmen and Eleazar up and hope that either two could come up with a solution that might please all three of them.

She was surprised to find the door open. Marcus was blocking the entrance, staring lifelessly at her two sisters, who were still unaware of his intrusion, with a hand laid gently on the old wooden frame and another lightly grasping the knob. How long he's been standing there, and how much he's heard of their little meeting, she did not know. But as hard as she tried, she could not stifle the strange, almost stolen-of-breath sound that came from her throat, silencing the angry noises behind her.

Irina watched as Marcus strode in, his head held high as accurately as Sasha described in her journals, with Sulpicia trailing behind as closely as his shadow might. That, of course, she does not remember coming across in said journals.

Immediately she felt her anger dissolving, and with her previous excitement returning, she quickly brushed past Tanya and towards him. Kate grasped her wrist, mostly in fear of her doing something as crazy as hugging Marcus again when he's no longer taken by surprise.

She turned halfway towards her. "Kate, it's ok."

Kate only shook her head.

"What is it that you're hiding from us?" The voice was Sulpicia's, as edgy and demanding as expected.

Marcus, on the other hand, was weary. "Sulpicia..."

"Not us," replied Irina, seeming to want to turn around and fetch something, but somehow being held back by Kate. "Let me rephrase that for you: what is it that _your husband _isstill hiding?"

Sulpicia narrowed her eyes. Irina was startled. She didn't expect her sharp enough to catch the accusation masked in her tone. "Please, allow _me _to rephrase that: I highly recommend that you watch your tongue, because I might rip it out of that pretty little mouth of yours."

"Sulpicia." This time his voice was stern. "We do not threaten our hosts."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine." She muttered, before she retreated to the farthest corner and turned her eyes to the window, although the vampires present could tell that her attention was fully on them.

Marcus looked back at Irina. "I already know of Aro's deed."

"But-" she started.

"He is the murderer of my mate," he cut her off, his expression unchanging despite his mentioning of Didyme. "He had me fooled with his blessings, and murdered her the night we were supposed to leave everything behind, and to add insult to injury he had me mislead on the identity of her killer, and kept in the coven against my will." He paused. "You needn't add unnecessary conflict between yourself and your coven. My life from this point onwards is no one's responsibility but my own. I have learned to live with the shock, and I'm certain that I cannot be surprised any further."

Irina shook her head. She looked sad. She seemed to struggle with preserving eye contact, as if she was guilty for having known something great and for keeping it from him for too long. "You're wrong. You only know a small portion of the truth. It's much greater than you think, and…" she looked at his hand dropped limply by his side, as if she was considering taking it in her own. "I'm so sorry. I should've told you the moment I found out."

"Irina." Tanya warned. "That's enough."

The younger sister ignored her. "You and mother were great friends."

Marcus's eyes narrowed slightly. Only Irina noticed, because she was so close to him. "She was an acquaintance of mine, yes."

"You trusted each other with your own lives!" she insisted. "She…she left her journals behind. Records of your years together, from a time before you were turned, and snippets of her life without you…most importantly, of her last days."

"Sasha was kept prisoner in her last days," he said. "If she has been writing in anything, it would've been immediately confiscated."

"She had help," she said.

"Aro is a mind reader. He would've known."

She sighed in defeat. "Look, you don't have to believe me. See the journals for yourself. You'll recognize her style and handwriting, I'm sure, because it never changed."

Without another word, she turned around and walked past her sisters. She walked to a bemused Sulpicia and dropped on the floor next to her feet. The older woman threw a questioning glance at Marcus and took a step back. Irina rubbed her hand against the wooden floor and knocked a couple of times. Upon finding the desired spot, she dug her nails into the wooden material and easily tore it off.

Tanya sighed in defeat. "She really is going to kill us all," she muttered, before joining her sister at damaging their wooden floor.

Sulpicia peered over their heads. She saw piles of old, leather-bound, tattered journals. She motioned for Marcus, and soon enough she heard his ghostly footsteps approaching.

"We had to have some of them re-written in newer journals," explained Irina, as she dug out a pile and passed one over to Marcus. "They were falling apart, and the ink was fading too quickly. We lost a lot of pages from her earlier years with the Volturi, and we have absolutely nothing on her human life or nomadic years."

"Except for our memories," said Kate, smiling sadly, and still unmoving from her place. "She told us many stories."

Marcus's hand was unconsciously moving over the surface of the journal. It was definitely new, probably one of those old journals that got re-written. His theory was proven to be true, because when he opened a random page he was met with printed text. He glanced at Kate, frowning slightly to convey confusion.

She shrugged. "Tanya knew a guy in one of the universities she was attending. Don't worry, she didn't tell him anything. He thought she was working on a historical fiction novel."

He nodded, before looking back at the page he opened. Looking at the date, he couldn't help but appreciate the girls' extreme devotion to Sasha's memory. It had gone to such an extent that they somehow managed to preserve a day recorded too far back in history.

He thought she'd forgotten that day. He was a young vampire still, barely making his way into the world with his new powerful senses. Of the entire Volturi coven, Sasha was the one person he sought.

_I have never felt fear towards a younger vampire, _she wrote. _Especially towards Marcus, whom I have known and cherished for so long. My sweet Marcus was never a threat, not even when he matured into a man and learned the tricks of the swords and shields and of overcoming the barriers of a woman's desires. Strong, yes, but an entire being composed of treacherous emotions. _

_He finally returned to us. I would've gone mad if he had remained missing for one more day. I wanted him to stay with me and never leave, and to spend and entire night speaking endlessly and gesturing wildly and laughing loudly and almost drunkenly. But selfish as I am, I couldn't have that tonight, or any other night for a very long time._

_He came to me mad with rage and grief, and nearly starving for a drop of blood. But he would not have a single slave offered. No, he was thirsting for something greater, something far more dangerous and destructive. _

_Revenge. _

"_Fucking cowards!" He threw a vase across the room. Pieces exploded from the sheer force and flew over marble and linen. "I will tear them apart with my own hands!" _

_I saw the thirst growing in him. I couldn't have it. He was young still, many humans will get hurt in the process. I pleaded for him to stop. _

"_How could you ask me to forget?" He had demanded of me, his eyes black and wild. He was suddenly before me, grasping my arms and making my defenses roar against him. I kept myself still and rigid for his sake. I could not hurt him, even when my instincts demanded me to. "They killed him, Sasha. They slit his throat right before my eyes! Why, you might ask? Simply because he was _my _son." _

"_They were mislead," I said calmly, even when I felt fearful and defensive and extremely unaccustomed to his hard, painful grip on my arms. "Calm yourself, dear friend. Actions taken in anger will not lead to satisfaction, only destruction." _

_But my words fell on deft ears._

"_They are unworthy of the life the posses," he whispered vehemently, his face merely inches away from mine, and so dark from the thirst it nearly broke my resolve. "The aim _is_ destruction."_

"_He would not have wanted this," I said slowly, faltering when he narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth at my mentioning of his murdered son. "Breathe, my friend. Do not be led by your emotions, for they will destroy you."_

_He released me at once, as if scorched by my skin. He turned away and covered his face with his hands. His breathing was ragged. He eventually calmed himself, but still not enough to be the man he was prior to his sudden absence. _

"_Tell me, Sasha." His voice was lower this time. There was little trace of anger, but it was so overcome with grief that it would have brought me to tears if I was only capable of shedding them. "How could I find it in myself be merciful when they haven't been so courteous to my son?" _

_I gasped. I couldn't help it. It broke my heart to hear his voice waver at the end. _

"_They tortured him, and they only killed him when he recognized me," he whispered. He was shaking again with every drawn breath, but this time it wasn't from anger. "He was not yet a man, not even close. He was a boy of seventeen, and he saw what I was…and he saw that I was there, that I was not fending them off, that I was failing him again…" _

He stopped. He snapped the journal shut, getting the attention of all the females in the room. Upon seeing the expression on his face, Sulpicia opened her mouth to start with her interrogation sessions, but he spoke before she could utter a single word.

"Take it," he said to Irina, his voice dry and hoarse. He hurriedly pushed the journal into her hands, and she caught it just as it was about to fall. "Sasha had nothing to reveal. She means to torment me."

"No!" Irina objected, and tried to push the journal back into his hands. He took a large step back. "You've only read a part of one journal. You have to keep reading. This is something you have to know. I really don't want you to get hurt, but-"

"You say it," he said. "I want to hear it. Save me the pain you claim to wish I wouldn't have to go through by telling me yourself."

She bowed her head. "If I could I would. I just don't know _how_. I wasn't there, I didn't _see _it the way mother did. _You_ have to see it for yourself, the same way we all did. You have to go back from the very beginning."

He regarded her silently, his eyes occasionally flickering towards the journals taken from their secret hiding place.

He shook his head. "Forgive me, but I am unable to travel that far back. It's too soon."

"You have to," Tanya spoke, her voice louder and clearer than Irina's, albeit hesitant. "Look, if you want to win this thing against Aro, you're going to have to know what he's been up to in the past two thousand years."

He shook his head, taking backward steps, as if flames were approaching him. "There is nothing to win or lose. I am in great debt to your coven, and f I survive this ordeal I shall one day repay you, but for now I have nothing to give but my life. I will take my leave in the morning. If the Volturi were sent to you with Aro, do not hesitate or fear. Confess everything and he will spare you."

"Wait," Sulpicia spoke just as he was about to leave the room, picking up some of the tattered journals on her way towards him. "I think they're onto something."

"We are," said Irina. "Please, you don't have to read them now. Take as long as you want, but _please _read them all. I know you don't want to, but it's important…" She threw a glance at her sisters. They didn't look like they wanted her to continue, but she did anyway. "I know that you're mad at mother for what she did. We all are. But I can tell from her journals that you were very important to her. She would've done anything for you if she could, so why can't you honor her by simply reading what she wanted to tell you herself?"

"Honor her, you say," he scoffed, surprising them all with the mocking gesture. "I have given her the option of keeping that child as a human. It was a great risk on my behalf, but I was willing to go that far for her _because _I honored her as a friend. And what did she do instead, when she promised that she'd give that boy to a human family? She went against my wishes and turned him." He paused, giving the sisters a chance to protest. They didn't. "She had me facing a difficult task, one that had me choosing between my duty to my coven and my loyalty to an old friend. It was like being trapped in a ring of fire."

"Stop," said Irina, rather weakly. "Please, just…" she trailed off, offering him the journal again with a pleading expression. "It'll be ok. I promise."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry." He turned and swiftly left the room.

Irina watched the empty doorway for a few seemingly long seconds, her hand that held the journal still extended slightly. Finally, she gave out a heavy sigh and allowed her arm to rest by her side.

"Well, I hope you're happy," said Tanya, walking past her and towards the door. "_Now _we're most definitely screwed!"

Kate lightly brushed her hands over Irina shoulders, nodding at her in a way that said that she wasn't as angry as Tanya, but not necessarily pleased with what Irina did. She threw another glance at Sulpicia before leaving the room.

Irina gave another loud sigh. "Well, you might as well leave," she said, without even looking at Sulpicia. "The show's over."

"Mmm. Lovely."

She turned around, quirking an eyebrow at the unexpected impassive response, because from Sulpicia she had expected a provoking insult. Instead, she found her engrossed in one of the journals; her perfect pale eyebrows knitted slightly, her fingers thoughtfully covering her chin and her ruby-red eyes scanning the words with extreme care.

And then it occurred to her…She didn't really like where her mind was taking her, but this strange, untrusting woman might be the only one willing to help.

"H-hey," she said, trying with a bit of effort to sound a bit more friendly.

As if reading her mind, and without even looking up from the open journal balanced in her hand, she says: "I accept."

"You…really?"

She nodded. Irina waited for more. Sulpicia continued reading without a care in the world.

She shook her head. "Do you even know what I was about to say?"

"You want me to convince Marcus to reconsider, yes?" And this time she did look at her, however briefly, before looking down at the book again, as if her eyes were drawn magnetically by the words.

"Y-yea," she said, astonished. Was she really that easy to read?

"I accept." She repeated, marking a page and collecting a few journals stacked next to her feet. "Don't expect him to relent so soon. This is a very sensitive subject." She added, taking the journal Marcus abandoned that was held loosely in Irina's hand as she walked towards the door.

"Oh, its ok!" She couldn't keep her excitement at bay, even when the older blond threw her a quick questioning look. "Take your time, but…please. It's important that he knows."

* * *

_Laura bit her lower lip to stop its trembling. She had to remind herself that she was still in public, that she can't possibly let any of those high-and-mighty guards, her beautiful tormentors, to see her cry, and that it'd take her at least ten more minuets to reach her new bedroom._

_Her new, slightly more spacious, _shared _bedroom._

_She tried not to clench her fists in rage. Her first partner that she was recently paired up with was sauntering rather proudly just a step behind her, making many females act stupid, and all the while boasting about how great he'd look in a cloak. _

_Of all the newborns, of all the eligible recruits…why did it have to be _Narcissus?!

_Her chest was already heaving at the pressure of the contained sobs. She bit harder on her lip, almost cutting the skin with her sharp teeth. Five more minuets…_

_She wasn't like the rest. She didn't fawn over his god-like beauty, not even in secret. Rather, she hated him for it. She hated that the venom only enhanced it, and did absolutely nothing to nullify her repulsive features. She hated how beloved he is of almost everyone, even when he wasn't made an official guard yet, while she was oppressed and laughed at for being too hideous to look at. Now she knows that, if she truly did have potential as a guard, she'll never show it even if she tried. Narcissus casts a great shadow when he stands next to her…_

_The ancients are different, she tried convincing herself. They're not like the airheaded, lower-ranked guards nor are they as arrogant as the higher-ranked. They were wise enough to detect her in Narcissus's shadow, right? They had to be. _

_She threw the door open as soon as she reached her destination. She glanced behind her shoulders and found her partner stopped by that abominable human secretary with the large breasts and swaying hips. Laura narrowed her eyes at her back and at Narcissus's mischievous smirk before swiftly entering their room and slamming the door shut. _

_She leaned against the door and took in long, deep breaths. Anger wouldn't make her look good. She just had to work harder to prove her worth at least to the ancients. _

"_Ugh, I can't believe you're stuck with _her_," she heard the secretary whisper. "Poor baby. I can't imagine waking up to that face every morning…" _

_This time she actually did cut her lip. She pressed her nails on the wooden doors and dragged them upwards. Even that pathetic, aging, weak _human _had the audacity to insult her?! _

_She pushed herself away from the door and walked to the window, not even bothered with studying her new room. She closed her eyes and grabbed fistfuls of her hair, blocking her ears with her wrists in the process. Whatever that arrogant slab of muscle, venom, meat and bones had to say to that whore of a secretary, she didn't want to know._

"_What, no bed?" _

_She almost rolled her eyes. Of course, his voice was simply too loud and obnoxious for her to block. _

_She spun around and glared at his slightly disappointed face taking in the room's interior, and true to his words, she didn't find a bed. There were couches, though, as well as a coffee table, a few paintings, a bathroom, a closet and a single shelf filled with books. _

_He sighed, still looking very disappointed and not even aware of her rage. "I've always wanted a self portrait of myself half-naked on a bed…bet that'd look sexy…" _

"_I loath you," she said under her breath, so suddenly that it took both vampire by surprise, although it showed more on Narcissus's face. _

_He walked in and softly closed the door behind him, still looking shocked and confused by her revelation. This somehow seemed to have encouraged her to continue. _

"_Did you not hear me?" Her excitement could only be compared to that of a madman on the verge of a killing spree. "I loath you. I cannot stand the fact that you're here, that you're with me, and that you simply exist. I fucking loath you!" _

"_Why?" He asked. He didn't fire an insult back at her. She was mildly shocked, but still angrier than before._

_It wasn't fair. He was beautiful even when he wasn't smiling._

"_Everybody loves me," he added when she didn't answer. "I'm too beautiful for hatred!" _

_She snorted. "Guess again, pretty boy." She then turned back towards the window. _

_She caught his reflection on the glass. His face no longer looked confused. He looked hurt, rather deeply wounded, and…insecure? _

_She quickly spun around, and was surprised to find him leaning against the door in a casual manner, grinning broadly back at her. "You know, it's ok to be jealous. Women fight over me all the time. I'm used to it. You don't have to be cruel to hide it." _

_Too frustrated for words, she screamed and grabbed the closest vase. _

The memory, one amongst many she's had in the short period of time she's been his partner, melted with the rest. She watched as they carried the last of his belongings from their room- well, _her _room. To her surprise, he didn't have much. Just a lot of clothes and a mirror. It didn't surprise her in the least. Rather, it made her smile faintly.

She didn't understand at the time, at the pained expression that leaked into his face when she gave him her back. He was a lot like her, in a way. He didn't have an exceptional gift. He wasn't strong, she knew, nor was he bright. He was as fast as the average vampire, and below average in terms of tracking and hunting. But despite it all, he had his beauty. Rather, it was the only thing he ever had that he could call his own. According to the whispers she caught, no vampire was ever known to have had such beauty. It was his pride, and she had hated him when everyone accepted him for it.

She feels that she now had a real reason to hate herself. He may have been her only true friend, and she had taken him for granted.

She wasn't left to grieve in peace. Caius's new guard, the formerly 'vegetarian' vampire, had came in on his master's orders to bring her to him, and the next thing she knew she was standing in the middle of the notorious ancient's study. The guard had retreated back to his place next to Felix near the door.

Caius was sitting on his desk, looking very calm and composed despite the situation.

She had no idea why he called for her. She had already told him everything. She had nothing more to offer. However, she had been mulling over a request of her own…

She was made an official guard rather hurriedly. Master Aro, despite rumors, was true to his words. Still, would they grant her their permission, even when her target was once of their level of prominence…?

"Master," she said, sounding a lot more confidant than she felt. She saw the x-vegetarian stiffening from the corner of her eyes, but she didn't stop or feel fear. "Master, I have a request to ask of you, please." She quickly bowed her head, when she realized that she had been staring straight into his eyes ever since she came in.

"You must be aware that the information you provided is worth very little," he said in that same cold, biting tone of his.

She almost clenched her fists again. Narcissus had _died _for that piece of information!

But she nodded anyway. "Please master, with your permission, I wish to avenge my comrade's death."

"Oh?" He sounded highly amused. She chanced a quick glance and saw that he had an eyebrow raised, and that he was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his desk. "And what made you believe that you have a slight chance of mere survival against Marcus? He is privileged with thousands of year of experience in battlefields and political circles, and you have barely made it as a vampire for forty years. Not to mention, you have not only failed rather miserably on your first mission, but have lost a comrade along the way." He scoffed. "Oh, a battle between you and Marcus will end pathetically, with you dead in seconds. I would gladly miss it!"

"I am aware of my shortcomings," she said. "He is not my target." She paused then, waiting for the fear to sink in an pull her back, but she only felt more determined. "I am after the initial cause. It's Sulpicia's life I wish to take in exchange of my partner's, whose death she had invoked."

* * *

**Hmm…I this a cliffhanger I see? Maybe :P so, we're finally getting somewhere after…fourteen chapters O.o yea, I really need to stick to plan more often. Also, I feel like my writing style changed. I don't know about you guys, but I like it better now ^_^ anyway, I hope you enjoyed that! Until next time~**


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